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CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


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'(^X/2^^--*^ 


PELHAM 


OR 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN 


BY 


SIR   EDWARD ^ULWER  LYTTON,  BART.  ^ 


''^Jc  suis  /'eii  se'vkre,  tiiais  sage — 
Philosopher  niais  amoureux — 
Mon  art  est  de  me  rendre  keureux. 
J^y  rdussis — en  /aut-il  d^ advantage  ?  " 

'M  complete  gentleman^  ivho^  according  to  Sir  Fopling^  ought  to  dress  ivell^  dance 
•well,  fence  ■n<ell,  have  a  genius  for  lo2ie-letters,  and  an  agreeable  voice  /or  a  cham- 
ber." —Kihb.kegb. 


COMPLETE   IN  ONE  VOLUME 


CHICAGO   AND  NEW  YORK : 
BELFOKD,  CLARKE   .fe   COMPANY, 

PUBLISUEKS. 


TROWS 

IRrNTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPAHY, 

NEW  YORK. 


PREFACE 

TO 

THE    EDITION    OF    1828.* 


I  BELIEVE  if  we  were  to  question  every  author  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  his  literary  grievances,  we  should  find  that  the  most  fre- 
quent of  all  complaints,  was  less  that  of  being  unappreciated, 
than  that  of  being  misunderstood.  All  of  us  write  perhaps  with 
some  secret  object,  for  which  the  world  cares  not  a  straw  ;  and 
while  each  reader  fixes  his  peculiar  moral  upon  a  book,  no  one, 
by  any  chance,  hits  upon  that  which  the  author  had  in  his  own 
heart  designed  to  inculcate.  Hence  this  Edition  of  "  Pelham  " 
acquires  that  appendage  in  the  shape  of  an  explanatory  preface 
which  the  unprescient  benevolence  of  the  author  did  not  inflict 
on  his  readers  when  he  first  confided  his  work  to  their  candor 
and  discretion.  Even  so,  some  Candidate  for  Parliamentary 
Honors  first  braves  the  hustings  ; — relying  only  on  the  general 
congeniality  of  sentiment  between  himself  and  the  Electors — but 
alas !  once  chosen,  the  liberal  confidence,  which  took  him  upon 
trust  is  no  more,  and  when  he  reappears  to  commend  himself  to 
the  popular  suffrage,  he  is  required  to  go  into  the  ill-bred  ego- 
tisms of  detail — and  explain  all  that  he  has  done  and  all  that 
he  has  failed  to  do,  to  the  satisfaction  of  an  enlightened  but  too 
inquisitive  constituency. 

It  is  a  beautiful  part  in  the  economy  of  this  world,  that  noth- 
ing is  without  its  use  ;  every  weed  in  the  great  thoroughfares  of 
life  has  a  honey,  which  Observation  can  easily  extract ;  and  we 
may  glean  no  unimportant  wisdom  from  Folly  itself,  if  we  distin- 
guish while  we   survey,  and  satirize  while  we  share  it.     It  is  in 

*  Viz.,  tlic  Second  Edition. 


iv  PREFACE  TO  THE 

this  belief  that  these  volumes  have  their  origin.  I  have  not 
been  willing  that  even  the  common-places  of  society  should  af- 
ford neither  a  record  nor  a  moral ;  and  it  is  therefore  from  the 
common-places  of  society  that  the  materials  of  this  novel  have 
been  wrought.  By  treating  trifles  naturally,  they  may  be  ren- 
dered amusing,  and  that  which  adherence  to  Nature  renders 
amusing,  the  same  cause  also  may  render  instructive  :  for  Na- 
ture is  the  source  of  all  morals,  and  the  enchanted  well,  from 
which  not  a  single  drop  can  be  taken,  that  has  not  the  power  of 
curing  some  of  our  diseases. 

I  have  drawn  from  the  hero  of  my  Work,  such  a  person  as 
seemed  to  me  best  fitted  to  retail  the  opinions  and  customs  of 
the  class  and  age  to  which  he  belongs  ;  a  personal  combination 
of  antitheses — a  fop  and  a  philosopher,  a  voluptuary  and  a  mor- 
alist— a  trifler  in  appearance,  but  rather  one  to  whom  trifles  are 
instructive,  than  one  to  whom  trifles  are  natural — an  Aristippus 
on  a  limited  scale,  accustomed  to  draw  sage  conclusions  from 
the  follies  he  adopts,  and  while  professing  himself  a  votary  of 
Pleasure,  desirous  in  reality  to  become  a  disciple  of  Wisdom. 
Such  a  character  I  have  found  it  more  difficult  to  portray  than 
conceive  :  I  have  found  it  more  difficult  still,  because  I  have 
with  it  nothing  in  common,*  except  the  taste  for  observation, 
and  some  experience  in  the  scenes  among  which  it  had  been 
cast ;  and  it  will  readily  be  supposed  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to 
survey  occurrences  the  most  familiar  through  a  vision,  as  it  were, 
essentially  and  jDcrpetually  different  from  that  through  which 
oneself  has  been  accustomed  to  view  them.  This  difficulty  in 
execution  will  perhaps  be  my  excuse  in  failure  ;  and  some  addi- 
tional indulgence  may  be  reasonably  granted  to  an  author  who 
has  rarely  found  in  the  egotisms  of  his  hero  a  vent  for  his 
own. 

With  the  generality  of  those  into  whose  hands  a  novel  upon 

*  I  regret  extremely  that  by  this  remark  I  should  be  necessitated  to  relinquish  the 
flattering  character  I  have  for  so  many  months  borne,  and  to  undeceive  not  a  few  of 
my  most  indulgent  critics,  who  in  reviewing  my  work  have  literally  considered  the 
Author  and  the  Hero  one  flesh.  "  We  have  only,"  said  one  of  them,  to  complain  of 
the  Author's  egotisms  ;  he  is  perpetually  talking  of  himself  !  "—Poor  gentleman  !  from 
the  first  page  to  the  last,  the  Author  never  utters  a  syllable.— [The  few  marginal  notes 
in  which  the  Author  himself  speaks,  were  not  added  till  the  present  Edition.] 


EDITION  OF  1828.  V 

manners  is  likely  to  fall,  the  lighter  and  less  obvious  the  method 
in  which  reflection  is  conveyed,  the  greater  is  its  chance  to  be 
received  without  distaste  and  remembered  without  aversion. 
This  will  be  an  excuse,  perhaps,  for  the  appearance  of  frivoli- 
ties not  indulged  for  the  sake  of  the  frivolity  ;  under  that  which 
has  most  the  semblance  of  levity  I  have  often  been  the  most 
diligent  in  my  endeavors  to  inculcate  the  substances  of  truth. 
The  shallowest  stream,  whose  bed  every  passenger  imagines  he 
surveys,  may  deposit  some  golden  grains  on  the  plain  through 
which  it  flows  ;  and  we  may  weave  flowers  not  only  into  an  idle 
garland,  but,  like  the  thyrsus  of  the  ancients,  over  a  sacred 
weapon. 

It  now  only  remains  for  me  to  add  my  hope  that  this  edition 
will  present  the  "  adventures  of  a  gentleman  "  in  a  less  im- 
perfect shape  than  the  last,  and  in  the  words  of  the  erudite  and 
memorable  Joshua  Barnes,*  "  So  to  begin  my  intended  dis- 
course, if  not  altogether  true,  yet  not  wholly  vain,  nor  perhaps- 
deficient  in  what  may  exhilarate  a  witty  fancy,  or  inform  a  bad 

moralist." 

THE  AUTHOR. 

October,  1828. 

*  In  the  Preface  to  his  Gerania. 


PREFACE 

TO  " 

THE    EDITION    OF    1840* 


The  holiday  time  of  life,  in  which  his  novel  was  written,  while 
accounting,  perhaps  in  a  certaingaiety  of  tone,  for  the  popularity 
it  has  received,  may  perhaps  also  excuse,  in  some  measure,  its 
more  evident  deficiencies  and  faults.  Although  I  trust  the  time 
has  passed  when  it  might  seem  necessary  to  protest  against  those 
critical  assumptions  which  so  long  confounded  the  author  with 
the  hero ; — although  I  equally  trust  that,  even  were  such  assump- 
tions true,  it  would  be  scarcely  necessary  to  dispute  the  justice 
of  visiting  upon  later  and  more  sobered  life,  the  supposed  foibles 
and  levities  of  that  thoughtless  age  of  eighteen,  in  which  this  fic- 
tion was  first  begun, — yet,  perhaps,  some  short  sketch  of  the  ori- 
gin of  a  work,  however  idle,  the  success  of  which  determined 
the  literary  career  of  the  author,  may  not  be  considered  alto- 
gether presumptuous  or  irrelevant. 

While,  yet,  then  a  boy  in  years,  but  with  some  experience  of 
the  world,  which  I  entered  prematurely,  I  had  the  good  fortune 
to  be  confined  to  my  room  by  a  severe  illness,  towards  the  end 
of  a  London  season.  All  my  friends  were  out  of  town,  and  I 
was  left  to  such  resources  as  solitude  can  suggest  to  the  tedium 
of  sickness.  I  amused  myself  by  writing  with  incredible  diffi- 
culty and  lalpor  (for  till  then  prose  was  a  country  almost  as  un- 
known to  myself  as  to  Monsieur  Jourdain)  some  half  a  dozen 
tales  and  sketches.  Among  them  was  a  story  called  "'  Mortimer, 
or  the  Memoirs  of  a  Gentleman."  Its  commencement  was  al- 
most word  for  word  the  same  as  that  of  "  Pelham  ;  "  but  the  de- 

*  Viz.,  in  the  first  collected  edition  of  the  Author's  prose  works. 


EDITION  OF  1840.  vii 

sign  was  exactly  opposite  to  that  of  the  latter  and  later  work. 
"  Mortimer "  was  intended  to  show  the  manner  in  which  the 
world  deteriorates  its  votary,  and  "  Pelham,"  on  the  contrary, 
conveys  the  newer,  and,  I  believe,  sounder  moral,  of  showing 
how  a  man  of  sense  can  subject  the  usages  of  the  world  to  him- 
self instead  of  being  conquered  by  them,  and  gradually  grow 
wise  by  the  very  foibles  of  his  youth. 

This  tale,  with  the  sketches  written  at  the  same  period,  was 
sent  anonymously  to  a  celebrated  publisher,  who  considered  the 
volume  of  too  slight  a  nature  for  separate  publication,  and  recom- 
mended me  to  select  the  best  of  the  papers  for  a  magazine.  I 
was  not  at  that  time  much  inclined  to  a  periodical  mode  of  pub- 
lishing, and  thought  no  more  of  what,  if  *  migcB  to  the  reader, 
had  indeed  been  difficiks  to  the  author.  Soon  afterwards  I  went 
abroad.  On  my  return  I  sent  a  collection  of  letters  to  Mr.  Col- 
burn  for  publication,  which,  for  various  reasons,  I  afterwards 
worked  up  into  a  fiction,  and  which  (greatly  altered  from  their 
original  form)  are  now  known  to  the  public  under  the  name  of 
"  Falkland." 

While  correcting  the  sheets  of  that  tale  for  the  press,  I  was 
made  aware  of  many  of  its  faults.  But  it  was  not  till  it  had  been 
fairly  before  the  public  that  I  was  sensible  of  its  greatest ;  namely, 
a  sombre  coloring  in  life,  and  the  indulgence  of  a  vein  of  senti- 
ment, which,  though  common  enough  to  all  very  young  minds 
in  their  first  bitter  experience  of  the  disappointment  of  the 
world,  had  certainly  ceased  to  be  new  in  its  expression,  and  had 
never  been  true  in  its  philosophy. 

The  effect  which  the  composition  of  that  work  produced  upon 
my  mind,  was  exactly  similar  to  that  which  (if  I  may  reverently 
quote  so  illustrious  an  example)  Goethe  informs  us  the  writing 
of  '*  Werter  "  produced  upon  his  own.  T  had  rid  my  bosom  of  its 
"  perilous  stuff," — I  had  confessed  my  sins,  and  was  absolved, — 
I  could  return  to  real  life  and  its  wholesome  objects.  Encour- 
aged by  the  reception  which  "  Falkland  "  met  with,  flattering 
though  not  brilliant,  I  resolved  to  undertake  a  rie\Y  and  more 

*  Nttgie^  trifles;  difficiks  ^^'\^\qw\\. 


viii  PREFACE  TO  THE 

important  fiction.  I  had  long  been  impressed  with  the  truth  of 
an  observation  of  Madame  de  Stael,  that  a  character  at  once 
gay  and  sentimental  is  always  successful  on  the  stage.  I  re- 
solved to  attempt  a  similar  charter  for  a  novel,  making  the  sen- 
timent, however,  infinitely  less  prominent  than  the  gaiety.  My 
boyish  attempt  of  the  "  Memoirs  of  a  Gentleman  "  occurred  to 
me,  and  I  resolved  upon  this  foundation  to  build  my  fiction. 
After  a  little  consideration  I  determined,  however,  to  enlarge 
and  ennoble  the  original  character  :  the  character  itself,  of  the 
clever  man  of  the  world  corrupted  <5_y  the  world,  was  not  new;  it 
had  already  been  represented  by  Mackenzie,  by  Moore  in  "  Ze- 
luco,"  and  in  some  measure  by  the  master-genius  of  Richardson  it- 
self, in  the  incomparable  portraiture  of  Lovelace.  The  moral  to 
be  derived  from  such  a  creation  seemed  to  me  also  equivocal  and 
dubious.  It  is  a  moral  of  a  gloomy  and  hopeless  school.  We  live 
in  the  world  \,  the  great  majority  of  us,  in  a  state  of  civilization, 
must,  more  or  less,  be  men  <7/"the  world.  It  struck  me  that  it  would 
be  a  new,  an  useful,  and  perhaps  a  happy  moral,  to  show  in  what 
manner  we  might  redeem  and  brighten  the  common-places  of 
life  ;  to  prove  (what  is  really  the  fact)  that  the  lessons  of  society 
do  not  necessarily  corrupt,  and  that  we  may  be  both  men  of  the 
world,  and  even,  to  a  certain  degree,  men  of  pleasure,  and  yet 
be  something  wiser — nobler — better.  With  this  idea  I  formed 
in  my  mind  the  character  of  Pelham  ;  revolving  its  qualities  long 
and  seriously  before  I  attempted  to  describe  them  on  paper. 
For  the  formation  of  my  story,  I  studied  with  no  slight  attention 
the  great  works  of  my  predecessors,  and  attempted  to  derive  from 
that  study  certain  rules  and  canons  to  serve  me  as  a  guide  ;  and, 
if  some  of  my  younger  contemporaries  whom  I  could  name 
would  only  condescend  to  take  the  same  preliminary  pains  that 
I  did,  I  am  sure  that  the  result  would  be  much  more  brilliant. 
It  oftens  happens  to  me  to  be  consulted  by  persons  about  to  at- 
tempt fiction,  and  I  invariably  find  thai  they  imagine  they  have 
only  to  sit  down  and  write.  They  forget  that  art  does  not  come 
by  inspiration,  and  that  the  novelist,  dealing  constantly  with 
contrast  and  effect,  must,  in  the  widest  and  deepest  sense  of  the 


EDITION  OF  £840.  ix 

word,  study  to  be  an  artist.     They  paint  pictures  for  Posterity 
without  having  learned  to  draw. 

Few  critics  have,  hitherto,  sufficiently  considered,  and  none, 
perhaps,  have  accurately  defined,  the  peculiar  characteristics  of 
prose  fiction  in  its  distinct  schools  and  multiform  varieties  : — 
of  the  two  principal  species,  the  Narrative  and  Dramatic,  I  chose 
for  "  Pelham  "  my  models  in  the  former ;  and  when  it  was  object- 
ed, at  the  first  appearance  of  that  work,  that  the  plot  was  not 
carried  on  through  every  incident  and  every  scene,  the  critics 
evidently  confounded  the  two  classes  of  fiction  I  have  referred 
to,  and  asked  from  a  work  in  one  what  ought  only  to  be  the  attri- 
butes of  a  work  in  the  other :  the  dazzling  celebrity  of  Scott, 
who  deals  almost  solely  with  the  dramatic  species  of  fiction, 
made  them  forgetful  of  the  examples,  equally  illustrious,  in  the 
narrative  form  of  romance,  to  be  found  in  Smollett,  in  Fielding, 
and  Le  Sage.  Perhaps,  indeed,  there  is  in  "  Pelham  "  more  of 
plot  and  of  continued  interest,  and  less  of  those  incidents  that 
do  not  either  bring  out  the  character  of  the  hero,  or  conduce  to 
the  catastrophe,  than  the  narrative  order  may  be  said  to  re- 
quire, or  than  is  warranted  by  the  great  examples  I  have  ventured 
to  name. 

After  due  preparation,  I  commenced  and  finished  the  first 
volume  of  "  Pelham."  Various  circumstances  then  suspended 
my  labors,  till  several  months  afterwards  I  found  myself  quietly 
buried  in  the  country,  and  with  so  much  leisure  on  my  hands, 
that  I  was  driven,  almost  in  self-defence  from  e7min,  to  continue 
and  conclude  my  attempt. 

It  may  serve  perhaps  to  stimulate  the  courage  and  sustain  the 
hopes  of  others  to  remark,  that"  the  Reader  "  to  whom  the  MS. 
was  submitted  by  the  publisher,  pronounced  the  most  unfavorable 
and  damning  opinion  upon  its  chances  of  success, — an  opinion 
fortunately  reversed  by  Mr.  Oilier,  the  able  and  ingenious  author 
of  "  Inesilla,"  to  whom  it  was  then  referred.  The  book  was 
published,  and  I  may  add,  that  for  about  two  months  it  appeared 
in  a  fair  way  of  perishing  prematurely  in  its  cradle.  With  the 
exception  of  two  most  flattering  and  generously-indulgent  notices 


X  PREFACE  TO  THE 

in  the  "  Literary  Gazette  "  and  the  "  Examiner,"  and  a  very 
encouraging  and  friendly  criticism  in  the  "  Atlas,"  it  was  received 
by  the  critics  with  indifference  or  abuse.  They  mistook  its 
purport,  and  translated  its  satire  literally.  But  about  the  third 
month  it  rose  rapidly  into  the  favor  it  has  since  continued  to 
maintain.  Whether  it  answered  all  the  objects  it  attempted  I 
cannot  pretend  to  say  ;  one  at  least  I  imagine  that  it  did  answer  : 
I  think,  above  most  works,  it  contributed  to  put  an  end  to  the 
Satanic  mania, — to  turn  the  thoughts  and  ambition  of  young 
gentlemen  without  neckcloths,  and  young  clerks  who  were 
sallow,  from  playing  the  Corsair,  and  boasting  that  they  were 
villains.  If,  mistaking  the  irony  of  Pelham,  they  went  to  the 
extreme  of  emulating  the  foibles  which  that  hero  attributes  to 
himself — those  were  foibles  at  least  more  harmless,  and  even 
more  manly  and  noble,  than  the  conceit  of  a  general  detestation 
of  mankind,  or  the  vanity  of  storming  our  pity  by  lamentations 
over  imaginary  sorrows,  and  sombre  hints  at  the  fatal  burthen 
of  inexpiable  crimes.* 

Such  was  the  history  of  a  publication,  which  if  not  actually 
my  first,  was  the  one  whose  fate  was  always  intended  to  decide 
me  whether  to  conclude  or  continue  my  attempts  as  an  author. 

I  can  repeat,  unaffectedly,  that  I  have  indulged  this  egotism, 
not  only  as  a  gratification  to  that  common  curiosity  which  is  felt 
by  all  relative  to  the  early  works  of  an  author,  who,  whatever  be 
his  faults  and  demerits,  has  once  obtained  the  popular  ear ; — 
but  also  as  affording,  perhaps,  the  following  lessons  to  younger 
writers  of  less  experience  but  of  more  genius  than  myself. 
First,  in  attempting  fiction,  it  may  serve  to  show  the  use  of  a 
critical  study  of  its  rules,  for  to  that  study  I  owe  every  success 
in  literature  I  have  obtained  ;  and  in  the  mere  art  of  composition, 
if  I  have  now  attained  to  even  too  rapid  a  facility,  I  must  own 
that  facility  has  been  purchased  by  a  most  laborious  slowness  in 
the  first  commencement,  and  a  resolute  refusal  to  write  a  second 
sentence  until  I  had  expressed  my  meaning  in  the  best  manner  I 

*  Sir  Reginald  Glanville  was  drawn  purposely  of  the  would-be  Byron  School  as  a 
foil  to  Pelham.  For  one  who  would  think  of  imitating  the  first,  ten  thousand  would 
be  unawares  attracted  to  the  last. 


EDITION  OF  1840.  xi 

could  in  the  first.  And,  secondly,  it  may  prove  the  very  little 
value  of  those  "cheers,"  of  the  want  of  which  Sir  Egerton 
Brydges*  so  feelingly  complains,  and  which  he  considers  so 
necessary  towards  the  obtaining  for  an  author,  no  matter  what 
his  talents,  his  proper  share  of  popularity.  I  knew  not  a  single 
critic,  and  scarcely  a  single  author,  when  I  began  to  write.  I 
have  never  received  to  this  day  a  single  word  of  encouragement 
from  any  of  those  writers  who  were  considered  at  one  time  the 
dispensers  of  reputation.  Long  after  my  name  was  not  quite 
unknown  in  every  other  country  where  English  literature  is 
received,  the  great  quarterly  journals  of  my  own  disdained  to 
recognize  my  existence.  Let  no  man  cry  out  then  "for  cheers," 
or  for  literary  patronage,  and  let  those  aspirants,  who  are  often 
now  pleased  to  write  to  me,  lamenting  their  want  of  interest  and 
their  non-acquaintance  with  critics,  learn  from  the  author  (insig- 
nificant though  he  be)  who  addresses  them  in  sympathy  and 
fellowship, — that  a  man's  labors  are  his  best  patrons, — that  the 
public  is  the  only  critic  that  has  no  interest  and  no  motive  in 
underrating  him, — that  the  world  of  an  author  is  a  mighty 
circle  of  which  enmity  and  envy  can  penetrate  but  a  petty  seg- 
ment, and  that  the  pride  of  carving  with  our  own  hands  our  own 
name  is  worth  alf  the  "  cheers  "  in  the  world.  Long  live  Sidney's 
gallant  and  lofty  motto,  "  Aut  viam  inveniam  autfaciatn  /  "  f 

*  In  the  melancholy  and  painful  pages  of  his  autobiography. 
1 1  will  either  find  a  way  or  make  it. 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO 

THE    PRESENT    EDITION. 


No  ! — you  cannot  guess,  my  dear  reader,  how  long  my  pen 
has  rested  over  the  virgin  surface  of  this  paper,  before  even  that 
"  No,"  which  now  stands  out  so  bluffly  and  manfully,  took  heart 
and  stept  forth.  If,  peradventure,  thou  shouldst,  O  reader,  be 
that  rarity  in  these  days — a  reader  who  has  never  been  an  au- 
thor— thou  canst  form  no  conception  of  the  strange  aspect  which 
the  first  page  of  a  premeditated  composition  will  often  present  to 
the  curious  investigator  into  the  initials  of  things.  There  is  a 
sad  mania  now-a-days  f or  collecting  autographs — would  that  some 
such  collector  would  devote  his  researches  to  the  first  pages  of 
auctorial  manuscripts  !  He  would  then  form  some  idea  of  the 
felicitous  significance  of  that  idiomatic  phrase,  "  to  cudgel  the 
brains  !  " — Out  of  what  grotesque  zigzags,  and  fantastic  ar- 
abesques,— out  of  what  irrelevant,  dreamy  illustrations  from  the 
sister  art, — houses,  and  trees,  and  profile  sketches  of  men,  night- 
mares, and  chimeras — out  of  what  massacres  of  whole  lines,  pre- 
maturely and  timidly  ventured  forth  as  forlorn  hopes, — would 
he  see  the  first  intelligible  words  creep  into  actual  life — shy 
streaks  of  light,  emerging  from  the  chaos  !  For  that  rash  prom- 
ise of  mine,  that  each  work  in  this  edition  of  works  so  numer- 
ous, shall  have  its  own  new  and  special  Preface,  seems  to  me 
hard,  in  this  instance,  to  fulfil.  Another  Preface  !  what  for  ?  Two 
Prefaces  to  "  Pelham  "  already  exist,  wherein  all  that  I  would  say  is 
said  !  And  in  going  back  through  that  long  and  crowded  interval 
of  twenty  years  since  the  first  appearance  of  this  work, — what  shad- 
ows rise  to  beckon  me  away  through  the  glades  and  alleys  in  that  dim 


PRESENT  EDITION.  xiii 

labyrinth  of  the  Past !  Infant  Hopes,  scarce  born  ere  fated,  poor 
innocents,  to  die — gazing  upon  me  with  reproachful  eyes,  as  if 
I  myself  had  been  their  unfeeling  butcher ;  audacious  Enter- 
prises boldly  begun,  to  cease  in  abrupt  whim,  or  chilling  doubt 
— looking  now  through  the  mists,  zoophital  or  amphibious,  like 
those  borderers  on  the  animal  and  vegetable  life,  which  flash  on 
us  with  the  seeming  flutter  of  a  wing,  to  subside  away  into  rooted 
stems  and  withering  leaves.  How  can  I  escape  the  phantom 
throng  ?  How  return  to  the  starting-post,  and  recall  the  ardent 
emotions  with  which  youth  sprung  forth  to  the  goal  ?  To  write 
fitting  Preface  to  this  work,  which,  if  not  my  first,  was  the  first 
which  won  an  audience  and  secured  a  reader,  I  must  myself  be- 
come a  phantom,  with  the  phantom  crowd.  It  is  the  ghost  of  my 
youth  that  I  must  call  up.  What  we  are,  alone  hath  flesh  and 
blood — what  we  have  been,  like  the  what  we  shall  be,  is  an  idea  ; 
and  no  more  !  An  idea  how  dim  and  impalable  !  This  our 
sense  of  identity,  this  "  I  "  of  ours,  which  is  the  single  thread 
that  continues  from  first  to  last — single  thread  that  binds  flowers 
changed  every  day,  and  withered  every  night — how  thin  and 
meagre  is  it  of  itself — how  difficult  to  lay  hold  of !  When  we 
say  "  I  remember  "  how  vague  a  sentiment  we  utter  !  how  differ- 
ent it  is  to  say  "  1/ccl /"  And  when  in  this  effort  of  memory 
we  travel  back  all  the  shadow-land  of  years — when  we  say  "  I 
remember,"  what  is  it  we  retain,  but  some  poor  solitary  fibre  in 
the  airy  mesh  of  that  old  gossamer,  which  floated  between  earth 
and  heaven — moist  with  the  dews  and  sparkling  in  the  dawn  ? — 
Some  one  incident,  some  one  affection  we  recall,  but  not  all  the 
associations  that  surrounded  it,  all  the  companions  of  the  brain 
or  the  heart,  with  which  it  formed  one  of  the  harmonious  con- 
temporaneous ring.  Scarcely  even  have  we  traced  and  seized 
one  fine  filament  in  the  broken  web,  ere  it  is  lost  again.  In  the 
inextricable  confusion  of  old  ideas,  many  that  seem  of  the  time 
we  seek  to  grasp  again,  l)ut  were  not  so,  seize  and  distract  us. 
From  the  clear  effort  we  sink  into  the  vague  reverie  ;  the  Pres- 
ent hastens  to  recall  and  dash  us  onward,  and  few,  leaving  the 
actual  world  around  them  when  they  say  "  I  remember  "  do  not 


xiv  ADVERTISEMENT  TO  THE 

wake  as  from  a  dream,  with  a  baffled  sigh,  and  murmur  "  No, 
I  forget."  And  therefore,  if  a  new  Preface  to  a  work  written 
twenty  years  ago,  should  contain  some  elucidation  of  the  aims 
and  objects  with  which  it  was  composed,  or  convey  some  idea  of 
the  writer's  mind  at  that  time,  my  pen  might  well  rest  long  over 
the  blank  page  ; — and  houses  and  trees,  the  profile  sketches  of 
men,  nightmares  and  chimeras,  and  whole  passages  scrawled  and 
erased,  might  well  illustrate  the  barren  travail  of  one  who  sits 
down  to  say  "  I  remember  !  " 

What  changes  in  the  outer  world  since  this  book  was  writ- 
ten !  What  changes  of  thrones  and  dynasties  !  Through  what 
cycles  of  hope  and  fear  has  a  generation  gone  !  And  in  that  in- 
ner world  of  Thought  what  old  ideas  have  returned  to  claim  the 
royalty  of  new  ones  !  What  news  one  (new  ones  then)  have  re- 
ceded out  of  sight,  in  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  human  mind,  which, 
whatever  the  cant  phrase  may  imply,  advances  in  no  direct 
steadfast  progress,  but  gains  here  to  lose  there  ; — a  tide,  not  a 
march.  So,  too,  in  that  slight  surface  of  either  world,  "  the  man- 
ners," superficies  alike  of  the  action  and  the  thought  of  an  age, 
the  ploughshares  of  twenty  years  have  turned  up  a  new  soil. 

The  popular  changes  in  the  Constitution  have  brought  the 
several  classes  more  intimately  into  connection  with  each  other ; 
most  of  the  old  affectations  of  fashion  and  exclusiveness  are  out 
of  date.  We  have  not  talked  of  equality,  like  our  neighbors  the 
French,  but  insensibly  and  naturally,  the  tone  of  manners  has 
admitted  much  of  the  frankness  of  the  principle,  without  the 
unnecessary  rudeness  of  the  pretence.  I  am  not  old  enough 
yet  to  be  among  the  indiscriminate  praisers  of  the  past,  and 
therefore  I  recognize  cheerfully  an  extraordinary  improvement 
in  the  intellectual  and  moral  features  of  the  English  world,  since 
I  first  entered  it  as  an  observer.  There  is  a  far  greater  earnest- 
ness of  purpose,  a  higher  culture,  more  general  and  genial  views, 
amongst  the  young  men  of  the  rising  generation  than  were  com- 
mon in  the  last.  The  old  divisions  of  party  politics  remain ; 
but  among  all  divisions  there  is  a  greater  desire  of  identification 
with  the  people.     Rank  is  more  sensible  of  its  responsibilities, 


PRESENT  EDITION.  xv 

property  of  its  duties.  Amongst  the  clergy  of  all  sects,  the 
improvement  in  zeal,  in  education,  in  active  care  for  their  flocks, 
is  strikingly  noticeable  ;  the  middle  class  have  become  more 
instructed  and  refined,  and  yet,  (while  fused  with  the  highest  in 
their  intellectual  tendencies,  reading  the  same  books,  cultiva- 
ting the  same  accomplishments) — they  have  extended  their  sym- 
pathies more  largely  among  the  humblest.  And,  in  our  towns 
especially,  what  advances  have  been  made  among  the  operative 
population  !  I  do  not  here  refer  to  that  branch  of  cultivation 
which  comprises  the  questions  that  belong  to  political  inquiry, 
but  to  the  general  growth  of  more  refined  and  less  polemical 
knowledge.  Cheap  books  have  come  in  vogue  as  a  fashion  dur- 
ing the  last  twenty  years — books  addressed,  not  as  cheap  books 
were  once,  to  the  passions,  but  to  the  understanding  and  the 
taste — books  not  written  down  to  the  supposed  level  of  unin- 
formed and  humble  readers,  but  such  books  as  refine  the  gentle- 
man and  instruct  the  scholar.  The  arts  of  design  have  been 
more  appreciated — the  Beautiful  has  been  admitted  into  the 
pursuits  of  labor  as  a  principle — Religion  has  been  regaining 
the  ground  it  lost  in  the  latter  half  of  the  last  century.  What  is 
technically  called  education  (education  of  the  school  and  the 
schoolmaster),  has  made  less  progress  than  it  might.  But  that 
inexpressible  diffusion  of  oral  information  which  is  the  only  cul- 
ture the  old  Athenians  knew,  and  which  in  the  ready  transmis- 
sion of  ideas,  travels  like  light  froih  lip  to  lip,  has  been  insensi- 
bly educating  the  adult  generation.  In  spite  of  all  the  dangers 
that  menace  the  advance  of  the  present  century,  I  am  convinced 
that  classes  amongst  us  are  far  more  united  than  they  were  in 
the  latter  years  of  George  the  Fourth.  A  vast  mass  of  discon- 
tent exists  amongst  the  operatives,  it  is  true,  and  Chartism  is 
but  one  of  its  symptoms ;  yet  that  that  discontent  is  more  obvi- 
ous than  formerly,  is  a  proof  that  men's  eyes  and  men's  ears  are 
more  open  to  acknowledge  its  existence — to  examine  and  listen 
to  its  causes.  Thinking  persons  now  occupy  themselves  with 
that  great  reality — the  People  ;  and  questions  concerning  their 
social  welfare,  their  health,  tlieir  education,  their  interests,  their 


xvf  ADVERTISEMENT  TO  THE 

rights,  which  philosophers  alone  entertained  twenty  years  ago, 
are  now  on   the  lips  of  practical  men,  and  in  the  hearts  of  all. 
It  is  this  greater  earnestness — this  profounder  gravity  of  pur- 
pose and  of  view,  which  forms  the  most  cheering  characteristic 
of  the  present  time  ;  and  though  that  time  has  its  peculiar  faults 
and  vices,  this  is  not  the  place  to  enlarge  on  them.     I  have 
done,  and  yet  may  do  so,  elsewhere.     This  work  is  the  picture 
of  manners  in  certain  classes  of  society  twenty  years  ago,  and  in 
that  respect  I  believe  it  to  be  true  and  faithful.     Nor  the  less 
so,  that  under  the  frivolities  of  the  hero,  it  is  easy  to  recognize 
the  substance  of  those  more  serious  and  solid   qualities  which 
Time  has  educed  from  the  generation  and  the  class  he  repre- 
sents.    Mr.  Pelham  studying  Mills  on    Government   and    the 
Political  Economists,  was   thought  by  some  an  incongruity  in 
character  at  the  day  in  which  Mr.  Pelham  first  appeared — the 
truth  of  that  conception  is  apparent  now,  at  least  to  the  observ- 
ant.   The  fine  gentlemen  of  that  day  were  preparing  themselves 
for  the  after  things,  which  were   already   foreshadowed  ;  and 
some  of  those,  then  best  known  in  clubs  and  drawing-rooms, 
have  been  since  foremost  and  boldest,  nor  least  instructed,  in 
the  great  struggles  of  public  life. 

I  trust  that  this  book  may  now  be  read  without  prejudice  from 
the  silly  error  that  long  sought  to  identify  the  author  with  the 
hero. 

Rarely  indeed,  if  ever,  can  we  detect  the  real  likeness  of  an 
author  of  fiction  in  any  single  one  of  his  creations.  He  may 
live  in  each  of  them,  but  only  for  the  time.  He  migrates  into  a 
new  form  with  every  new  character  he  creates.  He  may  have  in 
himself  a  quality,  here  and  there,  in  common  with  each,  but 
others  so  widely  opposite,  as  to  destroy  all  the  resemblance  you 
fancy  for  a  moment  you  have  discovered.  However  this  be,  the 
author  has  the  advantage  over  his  work — that  the  last  remains 
stationary,  with  its  faults  or  merits,  and  the  former  has  the 
power  to  improve.  The  one  remains  the  index  of  its  day — the 
ether  advances  with  the  century.  That  in  a  book  written  in 
extreme  youth,  there  may  be  much  that  I  would  not  write  now  in 


PRESENT  EDITION.  xvii 

mature  manhood,  is  obvious ;  that  in  spite  of  its  defects,  the 
work  should  have  retained  to  this  day  the  popularity  it  enjoyed 
in  the  first  six  months  of  its  birth,  is  the  best  apology  that  can 
be  made  for  its  defects. 

E.  B.  L. 

London,  1848. 


PELHAM; 

OR, 

ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ou  peut-on  etre  mieux  qu'au  sein  de  safamille?  * — French  JSonp" 

I  AM  an  only  child.  My  father  was  the  younger  son  of  one 
of  our  oldest  earls,  my  mother  the  dowerless  daughter  of  a 
Scotch  peer.  Mr.  Peiham  was  a  moderate  Whig,  and  gave 
sumptuous  dinners  ; — Lady  Frances  was  a  woman  of  taste,  and 
particularly  fond  of  diamonds  and  old  china. 

Vulgar  people'know  nothing  of  the  necessaries  required  in  good 
society,  and  the  credit  they  give  is  as  short  as  their  pedigree. 
Six  years  after  my  birth,  there  was  an  execution  in  our  house. 
My  mother  was  just  setting  off  on  a  visit  to  the  duchess  of 
D ;  she  declared  it  was  impossible  to  gc  without  her  dia- 
monds. The  chief  of  the  bailiffs  declared  it  was  impossible  to 
trust  them  out  of  his  sight.     The  matter  was  compromised — the 

bailiff  went  with  my  mother  to  C ,  and  was  introduced  as 

my  tutor  "  a  man  of  singular  merit,"  whispered  my  mother,  "  but 
so  shy  !  "  Fortunately,  the  bailiff  was  abashed,  and  by  losing  his 
impudence  he  kept  the  secret.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  the 
diamonds  went  to  the  jeweller's,  and  Lady  Frances  wore  paste. 

I  think  it  was  about  a  month  afterwards  that  a  sixteenth 
cousin  left  my  mother  twenty  thousand  pounds.  "  It  will  just 
pay  off  our  most  importunate  creditors,  and  equip  me  for 
Melton,"  said  Mr.  Peiham. 

"  It  will  just  redeem  my  diamonds,  and  re-furnish  the  house," 
said  Lady  Frances. 

The  latter  alternative  was  chosen.  My  father  went  down  to 
run  his  last  horse  at  Newmarket,  and  my  mother  received  nine 

♦  Where  can  one  be  belter  than  in  the  bosom  of  one's  family  ? 


2  PELHAM;  OR, 

hundred  people  in  a  Turkish  tent.  Both  were  equally  fortu- 
nate, the  Greek  and  the  Turk ;  my  father's  horse  lost,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  he  pocketed  five  thousand  pounds  ;  and  my 
mother  looked  so  charming  as  a  Sultana,  that  Seymour  Conway 
fell  desperately  in  love  with  her. 

Mr.  Conway  had  just  caused  two  divorces  ;  and  of  course  all  the 
women  in  London  were  dying  for  him — judge  then  of  the  pride 
which  Lady  Frances  felt  at  his  addresses.  The  end  of  the 
season  was  unusually  dull,  and  my  mother,  after  having  looked 
over  her  list  of  engagements,  and  ascertained  that  she  had  none 
remaining  worth  staying  for,  agreed  to  elope  with  her  new 
lover. 

The  carriage  was  at  the  end  of  the  square.  My  mother,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  got  up  at  six  o'clock.  Her  foot  was 
on  the  step,  and  her  hand  next  to  Mr.  Conway's  heart,  when 
she  remembered  that  her  favorite  china  monster,  and  her  French 
dog,  were  left  behind.  She  insisted  on  returning — re-entered 
the  house,  and  was  coming  down  stairs  with  one  under  each 
arm,  when  she  was  met  by  my  father  and  two  servants.  My 
father's  valet  had  discovered  the  flight  (I  forget  how),  and 
awakened  his  master. 

When  my  father  was  convinced  of  his  loss,  he  called  for  his 
dressing-gown — searched  the  garret  and  the  kitchen — looked  in 
the  maid's  drawers  and  the  cellaret — and  finqjly  declared  he 
was  distracted.  I  have  heard  that  the  servants  were  quite  melted 
by  his  grief,  and  I  do  not  doubt  it  in  the  least,  for  he  was 
always  celebrated  for  his  skill  in  private  theatricals.  He  was 
just  retiring  to  vent  his  grief  in  his  dressing-room,  when 
he  met  my  mother.  It  must  altogether  have  been  an  awkward 
encounter,  and,  indeed,  for  my  father,  a  remarkably  unfortu- 
nate occurrence  :  since  Seymour  Conway  was  immensely  rich, 
and  the  damages,  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  proportionally 
high.  Had  they  met  each  other  alone,  the  affair  might  easily 
have  been  settled,  and  Lady  Frances  gone  off  in  tranquillity ; 
— those  confounded  servants  are  always  in  the  way ! 

I  have  observed  that  the  distinguishing  trait  of  people  accus- 
tomed to  good  society,  is  a  calm,  imperturbable  quiet,  which 
pervades  all  their  actions  and  habits,  from  the  greatest  to  the 
least :  they  eat  in  quiet,  move  in  quiet,  live  in  quiet,  and  lose 
their  wife,  or  even  their  money,  in  quiet ;  while  low  persons 
cannot  take  up  either  a  spoon  or  an  affront  without  making 
such  an  amazing  noise  about  it.  To  render  this  observation 
good,  and  to  return  to  the  intended  elopement,  nothing  farther 
was  said  upon  that  event.     My  father  introduced  Conway  to 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  3 

Brookes's  and  invited  him  to  dinner  twice  a  week  for  a  whole 
twelve  month. 

Not  long  after  this  occurrence,  by  the  death  of  my  grand- 
father, my  uncle  succeeded  to  the  title  and  estates  of  the 
family.  He  was,  as  people  rather  justly  observed,  rather  an 
odd  man ;  built  schools  for  peasants,  forgave  poachers,  and 
diminished  his  farmers'  rents ;  indeed,  on  account  of  these  and 
similar  eccentricities,  he  was  thought  a  fool  by  some,  and  a 
madman  by  others.  However,  he  was  not  quite  destitute  of 
natural  feeling  ;  for  he  paid  my  father's  debts,  and  established 
us  in  the  secure  enjoyment  of  our  former  splendor.  But  this 
piece  of  generosity  or  justice,  was  done  in  the  most  unhandsome 
manner;  he  obtained  a  promise  from  my  father  to  retire  from 
whist,  and  relinquish  the  turf ;  and  he  prevailed  upon  my 
mother  to  conceive  an  aversion  to  diamonds,  and  an  indifference 
to  china  monsters. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Tell  arts  they  have  no  soundness, 

But  vary  by  esteeming  ; 
Tell  schools  they  want  profoundness, 

And  stand  too  much  on  seeming. 
If  arts  and  schools  re])ly, 
Give  arts  and  schools  the  lie. —  The  SotiPs  Errand. 

At  ten  years  old  I  went  to  Eton.  I  had  been  educated  till 
that    period    by  my  mother,  who,   being  distantly  related    to 

Lord— ,  (who  had  published  "Hints  upon  the  Culinary 

Art"),  imagined  she  possessed  an  hereditary  claim  to  literary 
distinction.  History  was  her  great  forte,  for  she  had  read  all 
the  historical  romances  of  the  day ;  and  history  accordingly  I 
had  been  carefully  taught. 

I  think  at  this  moment  I  see  my  mother  before  me,  reclining 
on  her  sofa,  and  repeating  to  me  some  story  about  Queen 
Elizabeth  and  Lord  Essex  ;  then  telling  me,  in  a  languid  voice, 
as  she  sank  back  with  the  exertion,  of  the  blessings  of  a  literary 
taste,  and  admonishing  me  never  to  read  above  half  an  hour  at 
a  time,  for  fear  of  losing  my  health. 

Well,  to  Eton  I  went ;  and  the  second  day  I  had  been  there, 
I  was  half  killed  for  refusing,  with  all  the  pride  of  a  Pelham,  to 
wash  tea-cups.  I  was  rescued  from  the  clutches  of  my  tyrant 
by  a  boy  not  much  bigger  than    myself,  but  reckoned  the  best 


4  PELHAM ;  OR, 

fighter,  for  his  size,  in  the  whole  school.  His  name  was 
Reginald  Glanville  :  from  that  period,  we  became  inseparable, 
and  our  friendship  lasted  all  the  time  he  stayed  at  Eton,  which 
was  within  a  year  of  my  own  departure  for  Cambridge. 

His  father  was  a  baronet,  of  a  very  ancient  and  wealthy 
family ;  and  his  mother  was  a  woman  of  some  talent  and  more 
ambition.  She  made  her  house  one  of  the  most  attractive  in 
London.  Seldom  seen  at  large  assemblies,  she  was  eagerly 
sought  after  in  the  well-winnowed  soirees  of  the  elect.  Her 
wealth,  great  as  it  was,  seemed  the  least  prominent  ingredient 
of  her  establishment.  There  was  in  it  no  uncalled-for  ostenta- 
tion— no  purse-proud  vulgarity — no  cringing  to  great,  and  no 
patronizing  condescension  to  little  people  ;  even  the  Sunday 
newspapers  could  not  find  fault  with  her,  and  the  querulous 
wives  of  younger  brothers  could  only  sneer  and  be  silent. 

"  It  is  an  excellent  connection,"  said  my  mother,  when  I 
told  her  of  my  friendship  with  Reginald  Glanville,  "  and  will 
be  of  more  use  to  you  than  many  of  greater  apparent  con- 
sequence. Remember,  my  dear,  that  in  all  the  friends  you 
make  at  present,  you  look  to  the  advantage:  you  can  derive 
from  them  hereafter  ;  that  is  what  we  call  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  it  is  to  get  the  knowledge  of  the  world  that  you 
are  sent  to  a  public  school." 

I  think,  however,  to  my  shame,  that  notwithstanding  my 
mother's  instructions,  very  few  prudential  considerations  were 
mingled  with  my  friendship  for  Reginald  Glanville.  I  loved 
him  with  a  warmth  of  attachment,  which  has  since  surprised 
even  myself. 

He  was  of  a  very  singular  character  :  he  used  to  wander  by 
the  river  in  the  bright  days  of  summer,  when  all  else  were  at 
play,  without  any  companion  but  his  own  thoughts  ;  and  these 
were  tinged,  even  at  that  early  age,  with  a  deep  and  impas- 
sioned melancholy.  He  was  so  reserved  in  his  manner,  that 
it  was  looked  upon  as  coldness  or  pride,  and  was  repaid  as 
such  by  a  pretty  general  dislike.  Yet  to  those  he  loved,  no 
one  could  be  more  open  and  warm  ;  more  watchful  to  gratify 
others,  more  indifferent  to  gratification  for  himself ;  an  utter 
absence  of  all  selfishness,  and  an  eager  and  active  benevolence, 
were  indeed  the  distinguishing  traits  of  his  character,  I  have 
seen  him  endure  with  a  careless  good-nature  the  most  provok- 
ing affronts  from  boj^s  much  less  than  himself ;  but  if  I,  or  any 
other  of  his  immediate  friends,  was  injured  or  aggrieved,  his 
anger  was  almost  implacable.  Although  he  was  of  a  slight 
Irame,  yet  early  exercise  had  brought  strength  to  his  muscles. 


AD  VENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  5 

and  activity  to  his  limbs  ;  while  there  was  that  in  his  courage 
and  will  which,  despite  his  reserve  and  unpopularity,  always 
marked  him  out  as  a  leader  in  those  enterprises,  wherein  we 
test  as  boys  the  qualities  which  chiefly  contribute  to  secure 
hereafter  our  position  amongst  men. 

Such  briefly,  and  imperfectly  sketched,  was  the  character,  of 
Reginald  Glanville — the  one,  who,  of  all  my  early  companions, 
differed  the  most  from  myself :  yet  the  one  whom  I  loved  the 
most,  and  the  one  whose  future  destiny  was  the  most  inter- 
twined with  my  own. 

I  was  in  the  head  class  when  I  left  Eton.  As  I  was  reckoned 
an  uncommonly  well-educated  boy,  it  may  not  be  ungratifying 
to  the  admirers  of  the  present  system  of  education  to  pause 
here  for  a  moment,  and  recall  what  I  then  knew.  I  could 
make  fifty  Latin  verses  in  half  an  hour ;  I  could  construe,  with- 
out an  English  translation,  all  the  easy  Latin  authors,  and  many 
of  the  difficult  ones  with  it:  I  could  read  Greek  fluently,  and 
even  translate  it  through  the  medium  of  the  Latin  version  tech- 
nically called  a  crib.*  I  thought  exceedingly  clever,  for  I  had 
been  only  eight  years  acquiring  all  this  fund  of  information, 
which,  as  one  need  never  recall  it  in  the  world,  you  have  every 
right  to  suppose  that  I  had  entirely  forgotten  before  I  was  five- 
and-twenty.  As  I  was  never  taught  a  syllable  of  English  during 
this  period  ;  as,  when  I  once  attempted  to  read  Pope's  poems 
out  of  school  hours,  I  was  laughed  at,  and  called  "  a  sap ;  "  as 
my  mother,  when  I  went  to  school,  renounced  her  own  instruc- 
tions;  and  as,  whatever  school-masters  may  think  to  the  con- 
trary, one  learns  nothing  now-a-days  by  inspiration  :  so  of 
everything  which  relates  to  English  literature,  English  law-s  and 
English  history  (with  the  exception  of  the  said  story  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  and  Lord  Essex),  you  have  the  same  right  to  suppose 
that  I  was,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  when  I  left  Eton,  in  the  pro- 
foundest  ignorance. 

At  this  age,  I  was  transplanted  to  Cambridge,  where  I 
bloomed  for  two  years  in  the  blue  and  silver  of  a  fellow  com- 
moner of  Trinity.  At  the  end  of  that  time  (being  of  royal  de- 
scent) I  became  entitled  to  an  lionorary  degree.  I  suppose  the 
term  is  in  contradistinction  to  an  honorable  degree,  which  is  ob- 
tained by  pale  men  in  spectacles  and  cotton  stockings,  after 
thirty-six  months  of  intense  application. 

*  It  is  but  just  to  fiiy  that  the  educational  system  at  public  schools  is  preatly  im- 
proved since  the  above  was  written.     And  take  those  preat  seminaries  allopellier,  it 
may  be  df)ubted  whether  any  institutions   more    philosophical    in    theory  are   belter 
adapted  to  secure  that  union  of  classical  tastes  with  manly  habits  and  honorable  senti 
ments  which  distinguishes  the  English  gentleman. 


6  PELHAM;  OR, 

I  do  not  exactly  remember  how  I  spent  my  time  at  Cambiidge, 
I  had  a  piano-forte  in  my  room,  and  a  private  Lilliard-room  at  a 
village  tv.'o  miles  ofif ;  and,  between  these  resources,  I  managed 
to  improve  my  mind  more  than  could  reasonably  have  been 
expected.  To  say  truth,  the  whole  place  reeked  with  vulgarity. 
The  men  drank  beer  by  the  gallon,  and  ate  cheese  by  the  hundred- 
weight— wore  jockey-cut  coats,  and  talked  slang — rode  for 
wagers,  and  swore  when  they  lost — smoked  in  your  face,  and  ex- 
pectorated on  the  floor.  Their  proudest  glory  was  to  drive  the 
mail — their  mightiest  exploit  to  box  with  the  coachman — their 
most  delicate  amour  to  leer  at  the  bar-maid.* 

It  will  be  believed,  that  I  felt  little  regret  in  quitting  companions 
of  this  description.  I  went  to  take  leave  of  our  college  tutor. 
*'  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  he,  affectionately  squeezing  me  by  the  hand, 
"your  conduct  has  been  most  exemplary  ;  you  have  not  walked 
wantonly  over  the  college  grass-plats,  nor  set  your  dog  at  the 
proctor — nor  driven  tandems  by  day,  nor  broken  lamps  by  night — 
nor  entered  the  chapel  in  order  to  display  your  intoxication — 
nor  the  lecture-room,  in  order  to  caricature  the  professors.  This 
is  the  general  behavior  of  young  men  of  family  and  fortune  ;  but 
it  has  not  been  your's.  Sir,  you  have  been  an  honor  to  your 
college." 

Thus  closed  my  academical  career.  He  who  does  not  allow 
that  it  passed  creditably  to  my  teachers,  profitably  to  myself, 
and  beneficially  to  the  world,  is  a  narrow-minded  and  illiterate 
man,  who  knows  nothing  of  the  advantages  of  modern  education. 


CHAPTER  in. 


Thus  does  a  false  ambition  rule  us, 

Thus  pomp  delude,  and  folly  fool  us. — Shenstone. 

An  open  house,  haunted  with  great  resort. — Bishop  Hall's  Satires. 

I  LEFT  Cambridge  in  a  very  weak  state  of  health  ;  and  as 
nobody  had  yet  come  to  London,  I  accepted  the  invitation  of 
Sir  Lionel  Garrett  to  pay  him  a  visit  at  his  country-seat.  Accord- 
ingly, one  raw  winter's  day,  full  of  the  hopes  of  the  reviving 
influence  of  air  and  exercise,  I  found  myself  carefully  packed  up 
in  three  great-coats,  and  on  the  high  road  to  Garrett  Park. 

Sir  Lionel  Garrett  was  a  character  very  common  in  England, 

*  This,  at  that  time,  was  a  character  that  could  only  be  applied  to  the  g'ayest,  that  is 
the  worst,  set  at  the  University— and  perhaos  now  the  character  may  scarcely  exist. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN.  7 

and,  in  describing  him,  I  describe  the  whole  species.  He  was 
of  an  ancient  family,  and  his  ancestors  had  for  centuries  resided 
on  their  estates  in  Norfolk.  Sir  Lionel,  who  came  to  his  majority 
and  his  fortune  at  the  same  time,  went  up  to  London  at  the  age 
of  twenty-one,  a  raw,  uncouth  sort  of  young  man,  with  a  green 
coat  and  lank  hair.  His  friends  in  town  were  of  that  set  whose 
members  are  above  ton,  whenever  they  do  not  grasp  at  its  posses- 
sion, but  who,  whenever  they  do,  lose  at  once  their  aim  and  their 
equilibrium,  and  fall  immeasurably  below  it.  I  mean  that  set 
which  I  call  '•'•  the  respectable,''  consisting  of  old  peers  of  an  old 
school  ;  country  gentlemen,  who  still  disdain  not  to  love  their 
wine  and  to  hate  the  French;  generals  y^\\o  have  served  m  the 
army ;  elder  brothers  who  succeed  to  something  besides  a  mort- 
gage ;  and  younger  brothers  who  do  not  mistake  their  capital  for 
their  income.  To  this  set  you  may  add  the  whole  of  the 
baronetage — for  I  have  remarked  that  baronets  hang  together 
like  bees  or  Scotchmen  ;  and  if  I  go  to  a  baronet's  house,  and 
speak  to  some  one  whom  I  have  not  the  happiness  to  know,  I 
always  say  "  Sir  John!" 

It  was  no  wonder,  then,  that  to  this  set  belonged  Sir  Lionel 
Garrett — no  more  the  youth  with  a  green  coat  and  lank  hair,  but 
pinched  in,  and  curled  out — abounding  in  horses  and  whiskers 
— dancing  all  night — lounging  all  day — the  favorite  of  the  old 
ladies,  the  Philander  of  the  young. 

One  unfortunate  evening  Sir  Lionel  Garrett  was  introduced 
to  the  celebrated  Duchess  of  D.  From  that  moment  his  head 
was  turned.  Before  then,  he  had  always  imagined  that  he  was 
somebody — that  he  was  Sir  Lionel  Garrett,  with  a  good-looking 
person  and  eight  thousand  a-year  ;  he  now  knew  that  he  was 
nobody,  unless  he  went  to  Lady  G/s,  and  unless  he  bowed  to 
Lady  S.  Disdaining  all  importance  derived  from  himself,  it 
became  absolutely  necessary  to  his  happiness,  that  all  his  im- 
portance should  be  derived  solely  from  his  acquaintance  with 
others.  He  cared  not  a  straw  that  he  was  a  man  of  fortune,  of 
family,  of  consequence  ;  he  must  be  a  man  of  ton ;  or  he  was  an 
atom,  a  nonentity,  a  very  worm,  and  no  man.  No  lawyer  at 
Gray's  Inn,  no  galley-slave  at  the  oar,  ever  worked  so  hard  at 
his  task  as  Sir  Lionel  Garrett  at  his.  Ton,  to  a  single  man,  is  a 
thing  obtainable  enough.  Sir  Lionel  was  just  gaining  the  envied 
distinction,  when  he  saw,  courted,  and  married  Lady  Harriet 
Woodstock. 

His  new  wife  was  of  a  modern  and  not  very  rich  family,  and 
striving  like  Sir  Lionel  for  the  notoriety  of  fashion  ;  but  of  this 
struggle  he  was  ignorant.     He  saw  her  admitted  into  good   soci- 


8  PELHAM;  OR, 

ety — he  Imagined  she  commanded  it ;  she  was  a  hanger-on — he 
believed  she  was  a  leader.  Lady  Harriet  was  crafty  and  twenty- 
four — had  no  objection  to  be  married,  nor  to  change  the  name 
of  Woodstock  for  Garrett.  She  kept  up  the  baronet's  mistake 
till  it  was  too  late  to  repair  it. 

Marriage  did  not  bring  Sir  Lionel  wisdom.  His  wife  was  of 
the  same  turn  of  mind  as  himself  :  they  might  have  been  great 
people  in  the  country — they  preferred  being  little  people  in 
town.  They  might  have  chosen  friends  among  persons  of  re- 
spectability and  rank — they  preferred  being  chosen  as  acquaint- 
ance by  persons  of  ton.  Society  was  their  being's  end  and  aim, 
and  the  only  thing  which  brought  them  pleasure  was  the  pain  of 
attaining  it.  Did  I  not  say  truly  that  I  would  describe  indi- 
viduals of  a  common  species  ?  Is  there  one  who  reads  this,  who 
does  not  recognize  that  overflowing  class  of  our  population, 
whose  members  would  conceive  it  an  insult  to  be  thought  of 
sufficient  rank  to  be  respectable  for  what  they  are  .'' — who  take 
it  as  an  honor  that  they  are  made  by  their  acquaintance  .'' — who 
renounce  the  ease  of  living  for  themselves,  for  the  trouble  of 
living  for  persons  who  care  not  a  pin  for  their  existence — who 
are  wretched  if  they  are  not  dictated  to  by  others — and  who  toil, 
groan,  travail,  through  the  whole  course  of  life,  in  order  to 
forfeit  their  independence  ? 

I  arrived  at  Garrett  Park  just  time  enough  to  dress  for  din- 
ner. As  I  was  descending  the  stairs  after  having  performed 
that  ceremony,  I  heard  my  own  name  pronounced  by  a  very 
soft,  lisping  voice — "  Henry  Pelham  !  dear,  what  a  pretty  name. 
Is  he  handsome  ?  " 

"  Rather  elegant  than  handsome,"  was  the  unsatisfactory 
reply,  couched  in  a  slow,  pompous  accent,  which  I  immediately 
recognized  to  belong  to  Lady  Harriet  Garrett. 

"  Can  we  make  something  of  him  ?  "  resumed  the  first  voice. 

"  Something  !  "  said  Lady  Harriet,  indignantly  ;  "  he  will  be 
Lord  Glenmorris !  and  he  is  son  to  Lady  Frances  Pelham." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  lisper,  carelessly ;  "  but  can  he  write  poetr}', 
and  ]i\2iy  pro7jerbes  ?  " 

"  No,  Lady  Harriet,"  said  I,  advancing ;  "  but  permit  me, 
through  you,  to  assure  Lady  Nelthorpe  that  he  can  admire  those 
who  do." 

"  So  you  know  me  then  ? "  said  the  lisper :  "  I  see  we  shall  be 
excellent  friends  ;  "  and,  disengaging  herself  from  Lady  Harriet, 
she  took  my  arm,  and  began  discussing  persons  and  things, 
poetry  and  china,  French  plays  and  music,  till  I  found  myself 
beside   her  at    dinner,    and   most  assiduously   endeavoring   to 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  g 

silence  her  by  the  superior  engrossments  of  a  be'chamelk  dt 
poisson. 

I  took  the  opportunity  of  the  pause,  to  survey  the  little  circle 
of  which  Lady  Harriet  was  the  centre.  In  the  first  place,  there 
was  Mr.  Davison,  a  great  political  economist,  a  short,  dark,  cor- 
pulent gentleman,  with  a  quiet,  serene,  sleepy  countenance  ; 
beside  him  was  a  quick,  sharp  little  woman,  all  sparkle  and 
bustle,  glancing  a  small,  grey,  prying  eye  round  the  table,  with 
a  most  restless  activity  :  this,  as  Lady  Nelthorpe  afterwards  in- 
formed me,  was  a  Miss  Trafford,  an  excellent  person  for  a 
Christmas  in  the  country,  whom  everybody  was  dying  to  have  : 
she  was  an  admirable  mimic,  an  admirable  actress,  and  an  ad- 
mirable reciter  ;  made  poetry  and  shoes,  and  told  fortunes  by 
the  cards,  which  actually  came  true  ! 

There  was  also  Mr.  Womiwood,  the  noU-me-tatigere  of  literary 
lions — an  author  who  sowed  his  conversation  not  with  fiowers 
but  thorns.  Nobody  could  accuse  him  of  the  flattery  generally 
imputed  to  his  speCies :  through  the  course  of  a  long  and  varied 
life,  he  had  never  once  been  known  to  say  a  civil  thing.  He 
was  too  much  disliked  not  to  be  sought  after ;  whatever  is  once 
notorious,  even  for  being  disagreeable,  is  sure  to  be  courted. 
Opposite  to  him  sat  the  really  clever,  and  affectedly  pedantic 
Lord  Vincent,  one  of  those  persons  who  have  been  '"'' promising 
young  men  "  all  their  lives ;  who  are  found  till  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  in  a  dressing-gown,  with  a  quarto  before  them  ; 
who  go  down  into  the  country  for  six  weeks  every  session,  to 
cram  an  impromptu  reply  ;  and  who  always  have  a  work  in  the 
press  which  is  never  to  be  published. 

Lady  Nelthrope  herself  I  had  frequently  seen.  She  had  some 
reputation  for  talent,  was  exceedingly  affected,  wrote  poetry  in 
albums,  ridiculed  her  husband,  (who  was  fox-hunter,)  and  had  a 
particular  taste  for  the  fine  arts. 

There  were  four  or  five  others  of  the  unknown  vulgar,  young 
brothers,  who  were  good  shots  and  bad  matches  ;  elderly  ladies, 
who  lived  in  Baker-street,  and  liked  long  whist ;  and  young  ones, 
who  never  took  wine,  and  said  "..V/r.'" 

I  must,  however,  among  this  number,  except  the  beautiful 
Lady  Roseville,  the  most  fascinating  woman,  perhaps,  of  the 
day.  She  was  evidently  the  great  person  there,  and,  indeed, 
among  all  people  who  paid  due  deference  to  ton.  was  always  sure 
to  be  so  everywhere.  I  have  never  seen  but  one  person  more 
beautiful.  Her  eyes  were  of  the  deepest  blue  ;  her  complexion 
of  the  most  delicate  carnation  ;  her  hair  of  the  richest  auburn  ; 


10  PELHAM;  OR, 

nor  could  even  Mr.  Wormwood  detect  the  smallest   fault  in  the 
rounded  yet  slender  symmetry  of  her  figure. 

Although  not  above  twenty-five,  she  was  in  that  state  in  which 
alone  a  woman  ceases  to  be  a  dependant — widowhood.  Lord 
Roseville,  who  had  been  dead  about  two  years,  had  not  survived 
their  marriage  many  months ;  that  period  was,  however,  suffi- 
ciently long  to  allow  him  to  appreciate  her  excellence,  and  to  tes- 
tify his  sense  of  it !  the  whole  of  his  unentailed  property,  which 
was  very  large,  he  bequeathed  to  her. 

She  was  very  fond  of  the  society  of  literary  persons,  though 
without  the  pretence  of  belonging  to  their  order.  But  her  manners 
constituted  her  chief  attraction  :  while  they  were  utterly  different 
from  those  of  every  one  else,  you  could  not,  in  the  least  minutiae, 
discover  in  what  the  difference  consisted  :  this  is,  in  my  opinion, 
the  real  test  of  perfect  breeding.  While  you  are  enchanted  with 
the  effect,  it  should  possess  so  little  prominency  and  peculiarity, 
that  you  should  never  be  able  to  guess  the  cause. 

"  Pray,"  said  Lord  Vincent  to  Mr.  Wormwood,  "  have  you 
been  to  P this  year  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  answer. 

"I  have,"  said  Miss  Traflord,  who  never  lost  an  opportunity 
of  slipping  in  a  word. 

"  Well,  and  did  they  make  you  sleep,  as  usual,  at  the  Crown, 
with  the  same  eternal  excuse,  after  having  brought  you  fifty 
miles  from  town,  of  small  house — no  beds — all  engaged — inn 
close  by  ?  Ah,  never  shall  I  forget  that  inn,  with  its  royal  name 
and  its  hard  beds — 

"  'Uneasy  sleeps  a  head  beneath  the  Crown? '  " 

"  Ha,  ha !  Excellent !  "  cried  Miss  Trafford,  who  was  always 
the  first  in  at  the  death  of  a  pun.  "  Yes,  indeed  they  did  : 
poor  old  Lord  Belton,  with  his  rheumatism  :  and  that  immense 
General  Grant,  with  his  asthma  ;  together  with  three  '  single 
men,'  and  myself,  were  safely  conveyed  to  that  asylum  for  the 
destitute." 

"Ah!  Grant,  Grant!"  said  Lord  Vincent,  eagerly,  who  saw 
another  opportunity  of  whipping  in  a  pun.  "  He  slept  there  also 
the  same  night  I  did  ;  and  when  I  saw  his  unwieldy  person  wad- 
dling out  of  the  door  the  next  morning,  I  said  to  Temple,  '  Well, 
thafs  the  largest  Grant  lever  saw  from  the  Crown'  "* 

"  Very  good,"  said  Wormwood,  gravely.  "  I  declare,  Vincent, 
you  are  growing  quite  witty.  You  know  Jekyl,  of  course! 
Poor  fellow,  what  a  really  good  punster  he  was — not  agreeable 

*  It  was  from  Mr.  J.  Smith  that  Lord  Vincent  purloined  this  pun. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  ii 

though — particularly  at  dinner — no  punsters  are,     Mr.  Davison, 
what  is  that  dish  next  to  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Davison  was  a  great  gourmand  :  "  Salmi  de  perdreaux 
aux  truffes,^'  replied  the  political  economist. 

"  Truffles  !  "  said  Wormwood,  "  havejv?/  been  eating  any  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Davison,  with  unusual  energy,  "  and  they  are  the 
best  I  have  tasted  for  a  long  time." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Wormwood,  with  a  dejected  air.  "  I  am 
particularly  fond  of  them,  but  I  dare  not  touch  one — truffles 
are  so  very  apoplectic — you,  I  make  no  doubt,  may  eat  them 
in  safety." 

Wormwood  was  a  tall,  meagre  man,  with  a  neck  a  yard  long. 
Davison  was,  as  I  have  said,  short  and  fat,  and  made  without  any 
apparent  neck  at  all — only  head  and  shoulders,  like  a  cod-fish. 

Poor  Mr.  Davison  turned  perfectly  white  ;  he  fidgeted  about 
in  his  chair  ;  cast  a  look  of  the  most  deadly  fear  and  aversion 
at  the  fatal  dish  he  had  been  so  attentive  to  before ;  and,  mut- 
tering "  apoplectic !  "  closed  his  lips  and  did  not  open  them 
asain  all  dinner-time. 

Mr.  Wormwood's  object  was  effected.  Two  people  were  si- 
lenced and  uncomfortable,  and  a  sort  of  mist  hung  over  the  spir- 
its of  the  whole  party.  The  dinner  went  on  and  off,  and  like 
all  other  dinners  ;  the  ladies  retired,  and  the  men  drank,  and 
talked  politics.  Mr.  Davison  left  the  room  first,  in  order  to 
lookout  the  word  "  truffles,"  in  the  Encyclopaedia;  and  Lord 
Vincent  and  I  went  next,  "  lest  (as  my  companion  characteristic- 
ally observed)  that  d d  Wormwood  should,  if  we  stayed  a 

moment  longer,  '  send  us  weeping  to  our  beds.'  " 


CHAPTER   IV. 


Oh  I  la  belle  chose  que  la  Poste  !  * — Lettres  de  Shignl. 
Ay — but  who  is  it  i" — As  you  like  ih 

I  HAD  mentioned  to  my  mother  my  intended  visit  to  Garrett 
Park,  and  the  second  day  after  my  arrival  there  came  the 
following  letter  :  — 

"  My  dear  Henry, 

'*  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  you  were  rather  better  than  you  had 
been.  I  trust  you  will  take  great  care  of  yourseif.  I  think 
flannel  waistcoats  might  be  advisable  ;  and,  by-the-by,  they  are 

♦  Oh  '.  what  a  beauiiful  iliincr  is — the  Post-office. 


\2  PELHAM;  OR, 

very  good  for  the  complexion.  Apropos  of  the  complexion  :  I 
did  not  like  that  blue  coat  you  wore  when  I  last  saw  you — you 
look  best  in  black — which  is  a  great  compliment,  for  people 
must  be  very  distinguished  in  appearance,  in  order  to  do  so. 

"  You  know,  my  dear,  that  those  Garretts  are  in  themselves 
anything  but  unexceptionable  ;  you  will,  therefore,  take  care  not 
to  be  too  intimate ;  it  is,  however,  a  very  good  house  :  most 
whom  you  meet  there  are  wordi  knowing,  for  one  thing  or  the 
other.  Remember,  Henry,  that  the  acquaintance  {fiot  the 
friends)  of  second  or  third-rate  people  are  always  sure  to  be 
good  :  they  are  not  independent  enough  to  receive  whom  they 
like — their  whole  rank  is  in  their  guests  :  you  may  be  also  sure 
that  the  menage  will,  in  outward  appearance  at  least,  be  quite 
comme  ilfaut,  and  for  the  same  reason.  Gain  as  much  knowl- 
edge de  Vart  aclinaire  as  you  can  :  it  is  an  accomplishment  ab- 
solutely necessary.  You  may  also  pick  up  a  little  acquaintance 
with  metaphysics,  if  you  have  any  opportunity ;  that  sort  of 
thing  is  a  good  deal  talked  about  just  at  present. 

"  I  hear  Lady  Roseville  is  at  Garrett  Park.  You  must  be 
particularly  attentive  to  her  ;  )^ou  will  probably  now  have  an  op- 
portunity defaire  votre  cotcr  that  may  never  again  happen.  In 
London,  she  is  so  much  surrounded  by  all,  that  she  is  quite  in- 
accessible to  one  ;  besides,  there  you  will  have  so  many  rivals. 
Without  flattery  to  you,  I  take  it  for  granted,  that  you  are  the 
best-looking  and  most  agreeable  person  at  Garrett  Park,  and  it 
will,  therefore,  be  a  most  unpardonable  fault,  if  you  do  not  make 
Lady  Roseville  of  the  same  opinion.  Nothing,  my  dear  son,  is 
like  a  liaison  (quite  innocent  of  course)  with  a  woman  of  celeb- 
rity in  the  world.  In  marriage  a  man  lowers  a  woman  to  his 
own  rank  ;  in  an  affaire  de  cceicr  he  raises  himself  to  her's.  I 
need  not,  I  am  sure,  after  what  I  have  said,  press  this  point 
any  further. 

"  Write  to  me  and  inform  me  of  all  your  proceedings.  If 
you  mention  the* people  who  are  at  Garrett  Park,  I  can  tell  you 
the  proper  line  of  conduct  to  pursue  with  each. 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  need  not  add  that  I  have  nothing  but  your 
real  good  at  heart,  and  that  I  am  your  very  affectionate  mother, 

"  Frances  Pelham. 

"  P.  S.  Never  talk  much  to  young  men — remember  that  it 
is  the  women  who  make  reputation  in  society." 

"Well,"  said  I,  when  I  had  read  this  letter,  "my  mother  is 
very  right,  and  so  now  for  Lady  Roseville." 

I  went  down,  stairs  to  breakfast.     Miss  Trafford  and  Lady 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  13 

Nelthorpe  were  in  the  room,  talking  with  great  interest,    and, 
on  Miss  Trafford's  part  with  still  greater  vehemence. 
"  So  handsome,*'  said  Lady  Nelthorpe,  as  I  approached. 
"Are  you  talking  of  me  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,  you  vanity  of  vanities  !  "  was  the  answer.  "  No,  we 
were  speaking  of  a  very  romantic  adventure  which  has  happened 
to  Miss  Trafford  and  myself,  and  disputing  about  the  hero  of  it. 
Miss  Trafford  declares  he  is  frightful ;  /  say  that  he  is  beautiful. 

Now,  you  know,  Mr.  Pelham,  as  to  you " 

"  There  can  be  but  one  opinion  ; — but  the  adventure  ?  " 

"  Is  this  !  "  cried  Miss  Trafford,   in  great  fright,  lest  Lady 

Nelthorpe  should,  by  speaking  first,  have  the  pleasure  of  the 

narration. — "  We  were  walking,  two  or  three  days  ago,  by  the 

sea-side,  picking  up  shells  and  talking  about  the  '  Corsair,'  when 

a  large  fierce " 

"  Man  !  "  interrupted  I. 

"No,  dog,''  (renewed  Miss' Trafford),  "flew  suddenly  out  of  a 
cave,  under  a  rock,  and  began  growling  at  dear  Lady  Nelthorpe 
and  me,  in  the  most  savage  manner  imaginable.  He  would  cer- 
tainly have  torn  us  to  pieces  if  a  very  tall " 

"  Not  so  very  tall  either,"  said  Lady  Nelthorpe. 

"  Dear,  how  you  interrupt  one,"  said  Miss  Trafford,  pettishly; 

"  well,  a  very  short  man,  then,  wrapped  up  in  a  cloak " 

"  In  a  great-coat,"  drawled  Lady  Nelthorpe.  Miss  Trafford 
went  on  without  noticing  the  emendation, — "  had  not,  with  in- 
credible rapidity,  sprung  down  the  rock  and " 

"  Called  him  off,"  said  Lady  Nelthorpe. 

"  Yes,  called  him  off,"  pursued  Miss  Trafford,  looking  round 
for  the  symptoms  of  our  wonder  at  this  extraordinary  incident. 

"What  is  the  most  remarkable,'  said  Lady  Nelthorpe,  " is, 
that  though  he  seemed  from  his  dress  and  appearance  to  be 
really  a  gendeman,  he  never  stayed  to  ask  if  we  were   alarmed 

or  hurt — scarcely  even  looked  at  us " 

("I  don't  wonder  at  that!  '  said  Mr.  Wormwood,  who,  with 
Lord  Vincent,  had  just  entered  the  room  ;) 

" — and  vanished  among  the  rocks  as  suddenly  as  he  ap- 
peared." 

"  Oh,  you've  seen  that  fellow,  have  you  ?  "  said  Lord  Vin- 
cent:  "so  have  I,  and  a  devilish  queer-looking  person  he  is, — 

'The  balls  of  his  broad  eyes  roll'd  in  his  head. 
And  glared  betwixt  a  yellow  and  a  red; 
He  look'd  a  lion  with  a  gloomy  stare, 
And  o'er  his  eyebrows  hung  his  matted  hair.* 

Well  remembered,  and  better  applied — eh,  Mr.  Pelham  ? " 


14  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Really,"  said  I,  "  I  am  not  able  to  judge  of  the  application, 
since  I  have  not  seen  the  hero." 

"  Oh,  its  admirable,"  said  Miss  Trafford,  "  just  the  descrip- 
tion I  should  have  given  of  him  in  prose.  But  pray,  where, 
when,  and  how  did  you  see  him  ?  " 

"Your  question  is  religiously  mysterious,  tria jitncta  in  nno" 
replied  Vincent ;  "  but  I  will  answer  it  with  the  simplicity  of  a 
Quaker.  The  other  evening  I  was  coming  home  from  one  of 
Sir  Lionel's  preserves,  and  had  sent  the  keeper  on  before,  in 
order  more  undisturbedly  to " 

"  Con  witticisms  for  dinner,"  said  Wormwood. 

"  To  make  out  the  meaning  of  Mr.  Wormwood's  last  work," 
continued  Lord  Vincent.  "  My  shortest  way  lay  through  that 
church-yard  about  a  mile  hence,  which  is  such  a  lion  in  this 
ugly  part  of  the  country,  because  it  has  three  thistles  and  a 
tree.  Just  as  I  got  there,  I  saw  a  man  suddenly  rise  from  the 
earth,  where  he  appeared  to  have  been  lying  ;  he  stood  still  for 
a  moment,  and  then  (evidently  not  perceiving  me)  raised  his 
clasped  hands  to  heaven,  and  muttered  some  words  I  was  not 
able  distinctly  to  hear.  As  I  approached  nearer  to  him,  which 
I  did  with  no  ver}^  pleasant  sensations,  a  large  black  dog, 
which,  till  then,  had  remained  coiichant,  sprang  towards  me  with 

a  loud  growl, 

•  Sonat  liic  de  nare  canina 
Litera,' 

as  Persius  has  it,     I  was  too  terrified  to  move — 
'  Obstupui — steteruntque  comae — ' 

and  I  should  most  infallibly  have  been  converted  into  dog's 
meat,  if  our  mutual  acquaintance  had  not  started  from  his 
reverie,  called  his  dog  by  the  very  appropriate  name  of  Terror, 
and  then,  slouching  his  hat  over  his  face,  passed  rapidly  by  me, 
dog  and  all.  I  did  not  recover  the  fright  for  an  hour  and  a 
quarter.  I  walked — ye  gods,  how  I  did  walk  !  no  wonder,  by 
the  by,  that  I  me?ided  my  pace,  for  as  Pliny  says  truly — 
"  '  Timor  est  emendator  asperrimus.'  "  * 

Mr.  Wormwood  had  been  very  impatient  during  this  recital, 
preparing  an  attack  upon  Lord  Vincent,  when  Mr.  Davison, 
entering  suddenly,  diverted  the  assault. 

*  Most  of  the  quotations  from  Latin  or  French  authors,  interspersed  throughout  this 
work,  will  be  translated  for  the  convenience  of  the  general  reader  ;  but  exceptions  will 
be  made,  where  such  quotations  (as  is  sometimes  the  case  when  from  the  mouth  of 
Lord  Vincent)  merely  contain  a  play  upon  words,  which  are  pointless,  out  of  the 
lanRuafje  employed,  or  which  only  iterate  or  illustrate,  by  a  characteristic  nedantry,  the 
sentence  that  precedes  or  follows  them. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  15 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  said  Wormwood,  dropping  his  roll,  "  how 
very  ill  you  look  to-day,  Mr.  Davison  ;  face  flushed — veins 
swelled — oh,  those  horrid  truffles  !  Miss  TrafiEord,  I'll  trouble 
you  for  the  salt." 


CHAPTER  V. 


Be  she  fairer  than  the  day, 
Or  the  flowery  meads  in  May ; 
If  she  be  not  so  to  me, 
What  care  I  how  fair  she  be? 

George  Withers, 

-It  was  great  pity,  so  it  was, 


That  villanous  saltpetre  should  be  digged 
Out  of  the  bowels  of  the  harmless  earth, 
Which  many  a  good  tall  fellow  had  destroy'd. 

First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV. 

Several  days  passed.  I  had  taken  particular  pains  to  ingra- 
tiate myself  with  Lady  Roseville,  and,  so  far  as  common 
acquaintance  went,  I  had  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  my 
success.  Anything  else,  I  soon  discovered,  notwithstanding  my 
vanity,  (which  made  no  inconsiderable  part  in  the  composition 
of  Henry  Pelham)  was  quite  out  of  the  question.  Her  mind 
was  wholly  of  a  different  mould  from  my  own.  She  was  like 
a  being,  not  perhaps  of  a  better,  but  of  another  world  than 
myself :  we  had  not  one  thought  or  opinion  in  common  ;  we 
looked  upon  things  with  totally  differt^nt  vision  ;  I  was  soon 
convinced  that  she  was  of  a  nature  exactly  contrary  to  what  was 
generally  believed — she  was  anything  but  the  mere  mechanical 
woman  of  the  world.  She  possessed  great  sensibility,  and 
even  romance  of  temper,  strong  passions,  and  still  stronger 
imagination;  but  over  all  these  deeper  recesses  of  her  charac- 
ter, the  extreme  softness  and  languor  of  her  manners  threw  a 
veil  which  no  superficial  observer  could  penetrate.  There  were 
times  when  I  could  believe  that  she  was  inwardly  restless  and 
unhappy;  but  she  was  too  well  versed  in  the  art  of  conceal- 
ment, to  suffer  such  an  appearance  to  be  more  than  momentary. 

"  I  must  own  that  I  consoled  myself  very  easily  for  my  want, 
in  this  particular  instance,  of  that  usual  good  fortune  which 
attends  me  with  the  divine  sex  ;  the  fact  was,  that  I  had  another 
object  in  pursuit.  All  the  men  at  Sir  Lionel  Garrett's  were 
keen  sportsmen.  Now,  shooting  is  an  amusement  I  was  never 
particularly  partial  to.     I  was  first  disgusted  with   that   species 


1 6  PELHAM;  OR, 

of  rational  recreation  at  a  battiic,  where,  instead  of  bagging  any- 
thing, /  was  nearly  bagged,  having  been  inserted,  like  wine  in 
an  ice-pail,  in  a  wet  ditch  for  three  hours,  during  which  time 
my  hat  had  been  twice  shot  at  for  a  pheasant,  and  my  leather 
gaiters  once  for  a  hare ;  and,  to  crown  all,  when  these  several 
mistakes  were  discovered,  my  intended  exterminators,  instead 
of  apologizing  for  having  shot  at  me,  were  quite  disappointed 
at  having  missed. 

Seriously,  that  same  shooting  is  a  most  barbarous  amusement, 
only  fit  for  majors  in  the  army,  and  royal  dukes,  and  that  sort  of 
people  ;  the  mere  walking  is  bad  enough,  but  embarrassing  one's 
arms,  moreover,  with  a  gun,  and  one's  legs  with  turnip-tops, 
exposing  oneself  to  the  mercy  of  bad  shots  and  the  atrocity  of 
good,  seems  to  me  only  a  state  of  painful  fatigue,  enlivened  by 
the  probability  of  being  killed. 

This  digression  is  meant  to  signify,  that  I  never  joined  the 
single  men  and  double  Mantons  that  went  in  and  off  among  Sir 
Lionel  Garrett's  preserves.  I  used,  instead,  to  take  long  walks 
by  myself,  and  found,  like  virtue,  my  own  reward,  in  the  addi- 
tional health  and  strength  these  diurnal  exertions  produced 
me. 

One  morning,  chance  threw  into  my  way  a  bonne  fortune, 
which  I  took  care  to  improve.  From  that  time  the  family  of  a 
Farmer  Sinclair  (one  of  Sir  Lionel's  tenants)  was  alarmed  by 
Strange  and  supernatural  noises  :  one  apartment  in  especial,  oc- 
cupied by  a  female  member  of  the  household,  was  allowed,  even 
by  the  clerk  of  the  parish,  a  very  bold  man,  and  a  bit  of  a  scep- 
tic, to  be  haunted ;  the  windows  of  that  chamber  were  wont  to 
open  and  shut,  thin  airy  voices  confabulate  therein,  and  dark 
shapes  hover  thereout,  long  after  the  fair  occupant  had,  with  the 
rest  of  the  family,  retired  to  repose.  But  the  most  unaccount- 
able thing  was  the  fatality  which  attended  nie,  and  seemed  to 
mark  me  out  for  an  untimely  death.  /,  who  had  so  carefully 
kept  out  of  the  way  of  gunpowder  as  a  sportsman,  very  narrow- 
ly escaped  being  twice  shot  as  a  ghost.  This  was  but  a  poor  re- 
ward for  a  walk  more  than  a  mile  long,  in  nights  by  no  means  of 
cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies  ;  accordingly  I  resolved  to 
"  give  up  the  ghost"  in  earnest  rather  than  in  metaphor,  and  to 
pay  my  last  visit  and  adieus  to  the  mansion  of  Farmer  Sinclair. 
The  night  on  which  I  executed  this  resolve,  was  rather  memor- 
able in  my  future  history. 

The  rain  had  fallen  so  heavily  during  the  day,  as  to  render 
the  road  to  the  house  almost  impassable,  and  when  it  was  time 
to   leave,  I    inquired  with  very  considerable  emotion,  whether 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GEXTLEM AN.  17 

there  was  not  an  easier  way  to  return.  The  answer  was  satis- 
factory, and  my  last  nocturnal  visit  at  Farmer  Sinclair's  con- 
cluded. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Why  sleeps  he  not,  when  others  are  at  rest  ? — Byron. 

According  to  the  explanation  I  had  received,  the  road  I  was 
now  to  pursue  was  somewhat  longer,  but  much  better,  than  that 
which  I  generally  took.     It  was  to  lead  me  home  through  the 

church-yard  of ,  the  same,  by-the-by,  which  Lord  Vincent 

had  particularized  in  his  anecdote  of  the  mysterious  stranger. 
The  night  was  clear,  but  windy  :  there  were  a  few  light  clouds 
passing  rapidly  over  the  moon,  which  was  at  her  full,  and  shone 
through  the  frosty  air,  with  all  that  cold  and  transparent  bright- 
ness so  peculiar  to  our  northern  winters,  I  walked  briskly  on 
till  I  came  to  the  church-yard  ;  I  could  not  then  help  pausing 
(notwithstanding  my  total  deficiency  in  all  romance)  to  look  for 
a  few  moments  at  the  exceeding  beauty  of  the  scene  around  me. 
The  church  itself  was  extremely  old,  and  stood  alone  and  grev, 
in  the  rude  simplicity  of  the  earliest  form  of  gothic  architecture  : 
two  large  dark  yew-trees  drooped  on  each  side  over  tombs, 
which,  from  their  size  and  decorations,  appeared  to  be  the  last 
possession  of  some  quondam  lords  of  the  soil.  To  the  left,  the 
ground  was  skirted  by  a  thick  and  luxuriant  copse  of  ever- 
greens, in  the  front  of  which  stood  one  tall,  naked  oak,  stern  and 
leafless,  a  very  token  of  'esolation  and  decay;  there  were  but  few 
grave-stones  scattered  about,  and  these  were,  for  the  most  part, 
hidden  by  the  long  wild  grass  which  wreathed  and  climbed 
round  them.  Over  all,  the  blue  skies  and  still  moon  shed  that 
solemn  light,  the  effect  of  which,  either  on  the  scene  or  the  feel- 
ings, it  is  so  impossible  to  describe. 

I  was  just  about  to  renew  my  walk,  when  a  tall,  dark  figure, 
wrapped  up  like  myself,  in  a  large  French  cloak,  passed  slowly 
along  from  the  other  side  of  the  church,  and  paused  by  the 
copse  I  have  before  mentioned.  I  Avas  shrouded  at  that  mo- 
ment from  his  sight  by  one  of  the  yew  trees ;  he  stood  still  only 
for  a  few'  moments  ;  he  then  flung  himself  upon  the  earth,  and 
sobbed  audibly,  even  at  the  spot  where  I  was  standing.  I  was 
in  doubt  whether  to  wait  longer  or  to  proceed  ;  my  way  lay  just 
by  him,  and  it  might  be  dangerous  to  interrupt  so  substantial  an 
apparition.  However,  my  curiosity  was  excited,  and  my  feel 
2 


i8  PELHAM;  OR, 

were  half  frozen,  two  cogent  reasons  for  proceeding  ;  and,  to  rny 
truth,  I  was  never  much  frightened  by  any  thing  dead  or  ali\e. 

Accordingly  I  left  my  obscurity,  and  walked  slowly  onwards. 
I  had  not  got  above  three  paces  before  the  figure  arose,  and 
stood  erect  and  motionless  before  me.  His  hat  had  fallen  off, 
and  the  moon  shone  full  upon  his  countenance  ;  it  was  not  the 
wild  expression  of  intense  anguish  which  dwelt  on  those  hueless 
and  sunken  features,  nor  their  quick  change  to  ferocity  and  de- 
fiance, as  his  eye  fell  upon  me,  which  made  me  start  back  and 
feel  my  heart  stand  still  !  Notwithstanding  the  fearful  ravages 
graven  in  that  countenance,  once  so  brilliant  with  the  graces  of 
boyhood,  I  recognized,  at  one  glance,  those  still  noble  and  strik- 
ing features.  It  was  Reginald  Glanville  w'ho  stood  before  me  ! 
I  recovered  myself  instantly  ;  I  threw  myself  towards  him,  and 
called  him  by  his  name.  He  turned  hastily  ;  but  I  would  not 
suffer  him  to  escape  ;  I  put  my  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  drew 
him  towards  me.  "  Glanville  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  it  is  1  !  it  is  your 
old — old  friend,  Henry  Pelham.  Good  Heavens  !  have  I  met 
you  at  last,  and  in  such  a  scene  ?  " 

Glanville  shook  me  from  him  in  an  instant,  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  sank  down  with  one  wild  cry,  which  went 
fearfully  through  that  still  place,  upon  the  spot  from  which  he 
had  but  just  risen.  I  knelt  beside  him  ;  I  took  his  hand  ;  I  spoke 
to  him  in  every  endearing  term  that  I  could  think  of  ;  and, 
roused  and  excited  as  my  feelings  were,  by  so  strange  and  sud- 
den a  meeting,  I  felt  my  tears  involuntarily  falling  over  the  hand 
which  I  held  in  my  own.  Glanville  turned;  he  looked  at  me 
for  one  moment,  as  if  fully  to  recognize  me  ;  and  then  throwing 
himself  in  my  arms,  wept  like  a  child. 

It  was  but  a  few  minutes  that  this  weakness  lasted  ;  he  rose 
suddenly — the  whole  expression  of  his  countenance  was  changed 
— the  tears  still  rolled  in  large  drops  down  his  cheeks,  but  the 
proud,  stern  character  which  the  features  had  assumed,  seemed 
to  deny  the  feelings  which  that  feminine  weakness  had  betrayed. 

"  Pelham,"  he  said,  '■'•you  have  seen  me  thus  ;  I  had  hoped 
that  no  living  eye  would — this  is  the  last  time  in  which  I  shall 
indulge  this  folly.  God  bless  you — we  shall  meet  again — and 
this  night  shall  then  seem  to  you  like  a  dream." 

I  would  have  answered,  but  he  turned  swiftly,  passed  in  one 
moment  through  the  copse,  and  in  the  next  had  disappeared. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  19 


CHAPTER  VII. 

You  reach  a  chilling  chamber,  where  you  dread 
Damps. — Crabbe's  Borough. 

I  COULD  not  sleep  the  whole  of  that  night,  and  the  next 
morning  I  set  off  early,  with  the  resolution  of  discovering  where 
Glanville  had  taken  up  his  abode ;  it  was  evident  from  his 
having  been  so  frequently  seen,  that  it  must  be  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood. 

I  went  first  to  Farmer  Sinclair's  ;  they  had  often  remarked 
him,  but  could  give  me  no  other  information.  I  then  proceeded 
towards  the  coast ;  there  was  a  small  public-house  belonging  to 
Sir  Lionel  close  by  the  sea  shore  ;  never  had  I  seen  a  more  bleak 
and  dreary  prospect  than  that  which  stretched  for  miles  around 
this  miserable  cabin.  How  an  innkeeper  could  live  there,  is  a 
mystery  to  me  at  this  day — I  should  have  imagined  it  a  spot  upon 
which  anything  but  a  sea-gull  or  a  Scotchman  would  have  starved. 

"Just  the  sort  of  place,  however,"  thought  I,  "to  hear  some- 
thing of  Glanville."  I  went  into  the  house  ;  I  inquired,  and  heard 
that  a  strange  gentleman  had  been  lodging  for  the  last  two  or 
three  weeks  at  a  cottage  about  a  mile  further  up  the  coast. 
Thither  I  bent  my  steps  ;  and  after  having  met  two  crows,  and 
one  officer  on  the  preventive  service,  I  arrived  safely  at  my 
new  destination. 

It  was  a  house  a  little  better,  in  outward  appearance,  than  the 
wretched  hut  I  had  just  left,  for  I  observe  in  all  situations,  and 
in  all  houses,  that  "  the  public  "  is  not  too  well  served  :  but  the 
situation  was  equally  lonely  and  desolate.  The  house  itself, 
which  belonged  to  an  individual,  half-fisherman  and  half-smuggler, 
stood  in  a  sort  of  bay,  between  two  tall,  rugged,  black  cliffs. 
Before  the  door  hung  various  nets  to  dry  beneath  the  genial 
warmth  of  a  winter's  sun  ;  and  a  broken  boat,  with  its  keel  upper- 
most, furnished  an  admirable  habitation  for  a  hen  and  her  family, 
who  appeared  to  receive  en  pension  an  old  clerico-bachelor-looking 
raven.  I  cast  a  suspicious  glance  at  the  last  mentioned  person- 
age, which  hopped  towards  me  with  a  very  hostile  appearance, 
and  entered  the  threshold  with  a  more  rapid  step,  in  consequence 
of  sundry  apprehensions  of  a  premeditated  assault. 

"I  understand,"  said  I,  to  an  old,  dried,  brown  female,  who 


20  rKLHAM  ;  UK, 

looked  like  a  resuscitated  red-herring,   "tiiat  a  gentleman  is 
lodging  here." 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  answer  :  "  he  left  us  this  morning." 

The  reply  came  upon  me  like  a  shower-bath ;  I  was  both 
chilled  and  stunned  by  so  unexpected  a  shock.  The  old 
woman,  on  my  renewing  my  inquiries,  took  me  up  stairs,  to  a 
small,  wretched  room,  to  which  the  damps  literally  clung.  In 
one  corner  was  a  flock-bed,  still  unmade,  and  opposite  to  it,  a 
three-legged  stool,  a  chair,  and  an  antique  carved  oak  table,  a 
donation  perhaps  from  some  squire  in  the  neighborhood  :  on 
this  last  were  scattered  fragments  of  writing-paper,  a  cracked 
cup  half  full  of  ink,  a  pen,  and  a  broken  ramrod.  As  I  mechan- 
ically took  up  the  latter,  the  woman  said,  in  a  charming /rt-/*?/.?, 
which  I  shall  translate,  since  I  cannot  do  justice  to  the  original  : 
— "  The  gentleman,  sir,  said  he  came  here  for  a  few  weeks  to 
shoot ;  he  brought  a  gun,  a  large  dog,  and  a  small  portmanteau. 
He  stayed  nearly  a  month  ;  he  used  to  spend  all  the  mornings 
in  the  fens,  though  he  must  have  been  but  a  poor  shot,  for  he 
seldom  brought  home  anything ;  and  we  fear,  sir,  that  he  was 
rather  out  of  his  mind,  for  he  used  to  go  out  alone  at  night,  and 
stay  sometimes  till  morning.  However,  he  was  quite  quiet,  and 
behaved  to  us  like  a  gentleman  ;  so  it  was.  no  business  of  ours, 
only  my  husband  does  think — " 

"  Pray,"  interrupted  I,  "  why  did  he  leave  you  so  sud- 
denly?" 

"  Lord,  sir,  I  don't  know  !  but  he  told  us  for  several  days  past 
that  he  should  not  stay  over  the  week,  and  so  we  were  not  sur- 
prised when  he  left  us  this  morning  at  seven  o'clock.  Poor 
gentleman,  my  heart  bled  for  him  when  I  saw  him  look  so  pale 
and  ill." 

And  here  I  did  see  the  good  woman's  eyes  fill  with  tears  : 
but  she  wiped  them  away,  and  took  advantage  of  the  additional 
persuasion  they  gave  to  her  natural  whine  to  say,  "If,  sir,  j'ou 
know  of  any  young  gentleman  who  likes  fen-shooting,  and  wants 
a  nice,  pretty,  quiet  apartment — " 

"  I  will  certainly  recommend  this,"  said  I. 

"  You  see  it  at  present,"  rejoined  the  landlady,  "  quite  in  a 
litter  like ;  but  it  is  really  a  sweet  place  in  summer." 

"  Charming,"  said  I,  with  a  cold  shiver,  hurrying  down  the 
stairs,  with  a  pain  in  my  ear,  and  the  rheumatism  in  my  shoul- 
der, 

"  And  this,"  thought  I,  "  was  Glanville's  residence  for  nearly 
a  month  !  I  wonder  he  did  not  exhale  into  a  vapor,  or  moisten 
into  a  green  damp." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  2\ 

I  went  home  by  the  church-yard.  I  paused  on  the  spot  where 
I  had  last  seen  him.  A  small  grave-stone  rose  above  the  mound 
of  earth  on  which  he  had  thrown  himself  ;  it  was  perfectly  sim- 
ple. The  date  of  the  year  and  month  (which  showed  that  many 
weeks  had  not  elapsed  since  the  death  of  the  deceased)  and  the 
initials  G.  D.,  made  the  sole  inscription  on  the  stone.  Beside 
this  tomb  was  one  of  a  more  pompous  description,  to  the  mem- 
ory of  a  Mrs,  Douglas,  which  had  with  the  simple  tumulus  nothing 
in  common,  unless  the  inital  letter  of  the  surname,  correspond- 
ing with  the  latter  initial  on  the  neighboring  grave-stone,  might 
authorize  any  connection  between  them,  not  supported  by  that 
similitude  of  style  usually  found  in  the  cenotaphs  of  the  same 
family :  the  one,  indeed,  might  have  covered  the  grave  of  a 
humble  villager — the  other,  the  resting-place  of  the  lady  of  the 
manor. 

I  found,  therefore,  no  clue  for  the  labyrinth  of  surmise  ;  and 
I  went  home,  more  vexed  and  disappointed  with  my  day's  expe- 
dition than  I  liked  to  acknowledge  to  myself. 

Lord  Vincent  met  me  in  the  hall.     "  Delighted  to  see  you/' 

said  he  ;  "  I  have  just  been  to (the  nearest  town),  in  order 

to  discover  what  sort  of  savages  abide  there.  Great  prepara- 
tions for  a  ball — all  the  tallow  candles  in  the  town  are  bespoken 
— and  I  heard  a  most  uncivilized  fiddle, 

'  Twang  short  and  sharp,  like  the  shrill  swallow's  cry.' 

7)^^  <7«^  milliner's  shop  was  full  of  fat  squiresses,  buying  muslin 
ammunition,  to  make  the  ball  go  off;  and  the  attics,  even  at 
four  o'clock,  were  thronged  with  rubicund  damsels,  who  were 
already,  as  Shakspeare  says  of  waves  in  a  storm, 

'  Curling  their  monstrous  heads.'  " 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

Jusqu'au  revoir  le  ciel  vous  tienne  tous  en  joie.*  —  Moliere. 

I  WAS  now  pretty  well  tired  of  Garret  Park.      Lady  Roseville 

was  going  to  H ,\vhere  I  also  had  an  invitation.    Lord  Vincent 

meditated  an  excursion  to  Paris,  Mr.  Davison  had  already 
departed.  Miss  Trafford  had  been  gone,  God  knows  how  long, 
and  I  was  not  at  all  disposed  to  be  left,   like  "  the  last  rose  of 

*  Heaven  keep  you  merry  till  we  meet  aRain. 


22  PELHAM;  OR, 

summer,"  in    single    blessedness    at    Garret  Park.      Vincent, 
'Wormwood,  and  myself,  all  agreed  to  leave  on  the  same  day. 

The  morning  of  our  departure  arrived.  We  sat  down  to  break- 
fast as  usual.  Lord  Vincent's  carriage  was  at  the  door ;  his  groom 
was  walking  about  his  favorite  saddlehorse. 

"A  beautitul  mare  that  is  of  your's,"  said  I,  carelessly  looking 
at  it,  and  reaching  across  the  table  to  help  myself  to  the  pate  de 
foie  g)'as. 

"  Mare  !  "  exclaimed  the  incorrigible  punster,  delighted  with 
my  mistake  :  "  I  thought  that  you  would  have  been  better  ac- 
quainted with  yoxxx propia  quce  maribus." 

"  Humph  !  "  said    Wormwood,  "  when    I    look  at  you,  I  am 
always  at  least  reminded  of  the  roman  '  as  in  prcesenti  f '  " 

Lord  Vincent  drew  up  and  looked  unutterable  anger.  Worm- 
wood went  on  with  his  dry  toast,  and  Lady  Roseville,  who  that 
morning  had,  for  a  wonder,  come  down  to  breakfast,  good-na- 
turedly took  off  the  bear.  Whether  or  not  his  ascetic  nature 
was  somewhat  modified  by  the  soft  smiles  and  softer  voice  of 
the  beautiful  countess,  I  can  not  pretend  to  say ;  but  he 
certainly  entered  into  a  conversation  with  her,  not  much  rougher 
than  that  of  a  less  gifted  individual  might  have  been.  They 
talked  of  literature,  Lord  Byron,  conversaziones,  and  Lydia 
White.* 

"  Miss  White,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  "  has  not  only  the  best 
command  of  language  herself,  but  she  gives  language  to  other 
people.  Dinner  parties,  usually  so  stupid,  are,  at  her  house, 
quite  delightful.  There,  I  have  actually  seen  English  people 
look  happy,  and  one  or  two  even  almost  natural." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Wormwood,  "  that  is  indeed  rare.  With  us 
everything  is  assumption.  We  are  still  exactly  like  the  English 
suitor  to  Portia,  in  the  merchant  of  Venice.  We  take  our  doub- 
let from  one  country,  our  hose  from  another,  and  our  behavior 
everywhere.  Fashion  with  us  is  like  the  man  in  one  of  Le 
Sage's  novels,  who  was  constantly  changing  his  servants,  and 
yet  had  but  one  suit  of  livery,  which  every  new  comer,  whether 
he  was  tall  or  short,  fat  or  thin,  was  obliged  to  wear.  We  adopt 
manners,  however  incongruous  and  ill  suited  to  our  nature,  and 
thus  we  always  seem  awkward  and  constrained.  But  Lydia 
White's  soirees  are  indeed  agreeable.  I  remember  the  last 
time  I  dined  there,  we  were  six  in  number,  and  though  we  were 
not  blessed  with  the  company  of  Lord  Vincent,  the  conversation 

was  without  *  let  or  flaw.'     Every  one,  even  S •  ,  said  good 

things." 

*  Written  before  the  death  of  that  lady. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  23 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Lord  Vincent,  "  and  pray,  Mr.  Wormwood, 
what  did  you  say  ?  " 

"Why,"  answered  the  poet,  glancing  with  a  significant  sneer 
over  Vincent's  somewhat  inelegant  person,  "  I  thought  of  your 
lordship's  figure,  and  said — grace  f'^ 

"  Hem — hem  ! — '  Gratia  maloruvi  tajn  infida  est  quain  ipsi'  as 
Pliny  says,"  muttered  Lord  Vincent,  getting  up  hastily,  and  but- 
toning his  coat. 

I  took  the  opportunity  of  the  ensuing  pause  to  approach  Lady 
Roseville,  and  whisper  my  adieus.  She  was  kind  and  even 
warm  to  me  in  returning  them  ;  and  pressed  me,  with  something 
marvellously  like  sincerity,  to  be  sure  to  come  and  see  her 
directly  she  returned  to  London.  I  soon  discharged  the  duties 
of  my  remaining  farewells,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  was 
more  than  a  mrle  distant  from  Garrett  Park  and  its  inhabitants. 
I  can't  say  that  for  one  who,  like  myself,  is  fond  of  being  made 
a  great  deal  of,  there  is  anything  very  delightful  in  those  visits 
into  the  country.  It  may  be  all  well  enough  for  married  people, 
who,  from  the  mere  fact  of  being  married,  are  always  entitled  to 
certain  consideration,  put — for  instance — into  a  bed-room,  a 
little  larger  than  a  dog-kennel,  and  accommodated  with  a  look- 
ing-glass, that  does  not  distort  one's  features  like  a  paralytic 
stroke.  But  we  single  men  suffer  a  plurality  of  evils  and  hard- 
ships, in  intrusting  ourselves  to  the  casualties  of  rural  hospital- 
ity. We  are  thrust  up  into  any  attic  repository — exposed  to  the 
mercy  of  rats  and  the  incursions  of  swallows.  Our  lavations 
are  performed  in  a  cracked  basin,  and  we  are  so  far  removed 
from  human  assistance  that  our  very  bells  sink  into  silence 
before  they  reach  half-way  down  the  stairs.  But  two  days 
before  I  left  Garrett  Park,  I  myself  saw  an  enormous  mouse  run 
away  with  my  shaving  soap,  without  any  possible  means  of  resist- 
ing the  aggression.  Oh  !  the  hardships  of  a  single  man  are 
beyond  conception  ;  and  what  is  worse,  the  very  misfortune  of 
being  single  deprives  one  of  all  sympathy.  "  A  single  man  can 
do  this,  and  a  single  man  ought  to  do  that,  and  a  single  man 
may  be  put  here,  and  a  single  man  may  be  sent  there,"  are 
maxims  that  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  hearing  constantly 
inculcated  and  never  disputed  during  my  whole  life;  and  so, 
from  our  fare  and  treatment  being  coarse  in  all  matters,  they 
have  at  last  grown  to  be  all  matters  in  course. 


24  rELHAM ;  OR, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Therefore  to  France. — Henry  IV. 

I  WAS  rejoiced  to  find  myself  again  in  London.  I  went  to 
my  father's  house  in  Grosvenor-square.     All  the  family,  viz.,  he 

and  my  mother,  were  down  at  H ;  and  despite  my  aversion 

to  the  country,  I  thought  I  might  venture  as  far  as  Lady 's 

for  a  couple  of  days.     Accordingly,  to  H I  went.     That  is 

really  a  noble  house — such  a  hall — such  a  gallery !  I  found 
my  mother  in  the  drawing-room,  admiring  the  picture  of  his  late 
Majesty.  She  was  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  tall,  fair  young  man. 
"  Henry,"  said  she  (introducing  me  to  him),  "  do  you  remember 
your  old  school-fellow.  Lord  George  Clinton  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  I  (though  I  remembered  nothing  about  him), 
and  we  shook  hands  in  the  most  cordial  manner  imaginable. 
By  the  way,  there  is  no  greater  bore  than  being  called  upon  to 
recollect  men,  with  whom  one  had  been  at  school  some  ten 
years  back.  In  the  first  place,  if  they  were  not  in  one's  own 
set,  one  most  likely  scarcely  knew  them  to  speak  to ;  and  in 
the  second  place,  if  they  were  in  one's  own  set,  they  are  sure  to 
be  entirely  opposite  to  the  nature  we  have  since  acquired  :  for  I 
scarcely  ever  knew  an  instance  of  the  companions  of  one's  boy- 
hood being  agreeable  to  the  tastes  of  one's  manhood  : — a  strong 
proof  of  the  folly  of  people  who  send  their  sons  to  Eton  and 
Harrow  to  form  connections  f 

Clinton  was  on  the  eve  of  setting  out  upon  his  travels.  His  in- 
tention was  to  stay  a  year  at  Paris,  and  he  was  full  of  the  blissful 
expectations  the  idea  of  that  city  had  conjured  up.  We  remained 
together  all  the  evening,  and  took  a  prodigious  fancy  to  one 
another.  Long  before  I  went  to  bed,  he  had  perfectly  inocu- 
lated me  with  his  own  ardor  for  continental  adventures  ;  and, 
indeed,  I  had  half  promised  to  accompany  him.  My  mother, 
when  I  first  told  her  of  my  travelling  intentions,  was  in  despair, 
but  by  degrees  she  grew  reconciled  to  the  idea. 

"  Your  health  will  improve  by  a  purer  air,"  said  she,  "  and 
your  pronunciation  of  French  is,  at  present,  any  thing  but  correct. 
Take  care  of  yourself,  therefore,  my  dear  son,  and  pray  lose  no 
time  in  engaging  Coulon  as  your  niaitre  de  da?ise." 

My  father  gave  me  his  blessing,  and  a  cheque  on  his  banket. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  25 

VViihin  three  days  I  had  arranged  every  thing  with  Chnton  and, 
on  the  fourth,  I  returned  with  him  to  London.  Thence  we  set 
off  to  Dover — embarked — dined,  for  the  first  time  in  our  lives, 
on  French  ground — were  astonished  to  find  so  Uttle  difference 
between  the  two  countries,  and  still  more  so  at  hearing  even  the 
little  children  talk  French  so  well  * — proceeded  to  Abbeville — 
there  poor  Clinton  fell  ill :  for  several  days  we  were  delayed  in 
that  abominable  town,  and  then  Clinton,  by  the  advice  of  the  doc- 
tors, returned  to  England.  I  went  back  with  as  far  as  Dover, 
and  then,  impatient  at  my  loss  of  time,  took  no  rest,  night  or 
day,  till  1  found  myself  at  Paris. 

Young,  well-born,  tolerably  good-looking,  and  never  utterly 
destitute  of  money,  nor  grudging  whatever  enjoyment  it  could 
procure,  I  entered  Paris  with  the  ability  and  the  resolution  to 
make  the  best  of  those  beaux  jours  which  so  rapidly  glide  from 
our  possession. 


CHAPTER  X. 


Seest  that  how  gayly  my  young  maister  goes  ? 

Bishop  Hall's  Satires. 

Qui  vit  sans  folic,  n'est  pas  si  sage  qu'il  croit.  t 

La  Rochefoucault. 

I  LOST  no  time  in  presenting  my  letters  of  introduction,  and 
tliey  were  as  quickly  acknowledged  by  invitations  to  balls  and 
dinners.  Paris  was  full  to  excess,  and  of  a  better  description 
of  English  than  those  who  usually  overflow  that  reservior  of  the 
world.  My  first  engagement  was  to  dine  with  Lord  and  Lady 
Bennington,  who  were  among  the  very  few  English  intimate  in 
the  best  French  houses. 

On  entering  Paris  I  had  resolved  to  set  up  "  a  character"  for 
I  was  always  of  an  ambitious  nature,  and  desirous  of  being  dis- 
tinguished from  the  ordinary  herd.  After  various  cogitations  as  to 
the  particular  one  I  should  assume,  I  thought  nothing  appeared 
more  likely  to  be  obnoxious  to  men,  and  therefore  pleasing  to 
women,  than  an  egregious  coxcomb  ;  accordingly,  I  arranged 
my  hair  into  ringlets,  dressed  myself  with  singular  plainness 
and  simplicity  (a  low  person,  by-the-by,  would  have  done  just  the 
contrary),  and,  putting  on  an  air  of  exceeding  languor,  made  my 
maiden    appearance    at    Lord    Bennington's.      The    party   was 

*  See  Addison's  Travels  for  this  idea, 
t  Who  hves  without  foUv  is  not  so  wise  as  he  thinks. 


26  PEL  11  AM;  OR, 

small,  and  equally  divided  between  French  and  English  :  the 
former  had  been  all  emigrants,  and  the  conversation  was  chiefly 
in  our  own  tongue. 

I  was  placed,  at  dinner,  next  to  Miss  Paulding,  an  elderly 
young  lady,  of  some  notoriety  at  Paris,  very  clever,  very  talka- 
tive, and  very  conceited.  A  young,  pale,  illnatured  looking 
man,  sat  on  her  left  hand ;  this  was  Mr.  Aberton. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Miss  Paulding,  ''  what  a  pretty  chain  that 
is  of  your's  Mr.  Aberton." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Aberton,  "I  know  it  must  be  pretty,  fori 
got  it  at  Breguet's  with  the  watch."  (How  common  people  al- 
ways buy  their  opinions  with  their  goods,  and  regulate  the  height 
of  the  former  by  the  mere  price  or  fashion  of  the  latter  !) 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  Miss  Paulding,  turning  to  me, 
"  have  you  got  one  of  Breguet's  watches  yet  ?  " 

"  Watch  !  "  said  I  :'''- do  you  think  /could  ever  wear  a  watch  ? 
I  know  nothing  so  plebeian.  What  can  any  one,  but  a  man  of 
business,  who  has  nine  hours  for  his  counting-house  and  one  for 
his  dinner,  ever  possibly  want  to  know  the  time  for.-"  'An  as- 
signation,' you  will  say  :  true,  but — if  a  man  is  worth  having, 
he  is  surely  worth  waiting  for  !  " 

Miss  Paulding  opened  her  eyes,  and  Mr.  Aberton  his  mouth. 
A  pretty,  lively  Frenchwoman  opposite  (Madame  d'Anville) 
laughed,  and  immediately  joined  in  our  conversation,  which,  on 
my  part,  was  during  the  whole  dinner,  kept  up  exactly  in  the 
same  strain. 

Madame  d'Anville  was  delighted,  and  Miss  Paulding  aston- 
ished. Mr.  Aberton  muttered  to  a  fat,  foolish  Lord  Luscombe, 
"  What    a    damnation    puppy !  " — and   every  one,  even  to    old 

Madame  de  G s,  seemed  to  consider  me  impertinent  enough 

to  become  the  rage  ! 

As  for  me,  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  effect  I  had  pro- 
duced, and  I  went  away  the  first,  in  order  to  give  the  men  an 
opportunity  of  abusing  me  ;  for  whenever  the  men  abuse,  the 
women,  to  support  alike  their  coquetry  and  the  conversation, 
think  themselves  called  upon  to  defend. 

The  next  day  I  rode  into  the  Champs  Elysees.  I  always  val- 
ued myself  particularly  upon  my  riding,  and  my  horse  was  both 
the  most  fiery  and  the  most  beautiful  in  Paris.  The  first  per- 
son I  saw  was  Madame  d'Anville.  At  that  moment  I  was  rein- 
ing in  my  horse,  and  conscious,  as  the  wind  waved  my  long 
curls,  that  I  was  looking  to  the  very  best  advantage  ;  I  made 
my  horse  bound  towards  her  carriage,  (which  she  immediately 
stopped,)  and  made  at  once  my  salutations  and  my  court. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENYLEMAN'.  27 

"  I  am  going,"  said  she,  "  to  the  Duchesse  D 's  this  even- 
ing— it  is  her  night — do  come." 

"  I  don't  know  her,"  said  I. 

'*  Tell  me  your  hotel,  and  I'll  send  you  an  invitation  before 
dinner,"  rejoined  Madame  d'Anville. 

"  I  lodge  !  "  said  I,  "  at  the  Hotel  de ,  Rue  de  Rivoli,  on 

the  second  floor  at  present ;  next  year,  I  suppose,  according  to 
the  usual  gradations  in  the  life  of  a  garcon,  I  shall  be  on  the 
third ;  for  here  the  purse  and  the  person  seem  to  be  playing  at 
see-saw — the  latter  rises  as  the  former  descends." 

We  went  on  conversing  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  in 
which  I  endeavored  to  make  the  pretty  Frenchwoman  believe 
that  all  the  good  opinion  I  possessed  of  myself  the  day  before, 
I  had  that  mornino;  entirelv  transferred  to  her  account. 

As  I  rode  home  I  met  Mr.  Aberton,  with  three  or  four  other  men  ; 
with  that  glaring  good-breeding,  so  peculiar  to  the  English,  he 
instantly  directed  their  eyes  towards  me  in  one  mingled  and 
concentrated  stare.  "  N' importc"  thought  I,  "  they  must  be 
devilish  clever  fellows  if  they  can  find  a  single  fault  either  in 
my  horse  or  myself." 


CHAPTER  XL 


Lud !  what  a  group  the  motley  scene  discloses, 

False  wits,  false  wives,  false  virgins,  and  false  spouses. 

GoLDSiMirn's  Epilogue  to  tlic  Comedy  of  the  Sisters. 

Madame  D'Anville  kept  her  promise — the  invitation  was 
duly  sent,  and  accordingly,  at  half  past  ten,  to  the  Rue  d'Anjou 
I  drove. 

The  rooms  were  already  full.  Lord  I'enningfon  was  standing 
by  the  door,  and  close  by  him,  looking  exceedingly  disfra/f,  was 
my  old  friend  Lord  Vincent.  They  both  came  towards  me  at 
the  same  moment.  "  Strive  not,"  thought  I,  looking  at  the 
stately  demeanor  of  the  one,  and  the  humorous  expression  of 
countenance  in  the  other — "  strive  not,  Tragedy  nor  Comedy. 
to  engross  a  Garrick."  I  spoke  first  to  Lord  Bennington,  fori 
knew  he  would  be  the  sooner  despatched,  and  then  for  the  next 
quarter  of  an  hour  found  myself  overflowed  wilh  all  the  witti- 
cisms poor  Lord  Vincent  hafi  for  days  been  obliged  to  retain.  I 
made  an  engagement  (o  dine  with  him  at  Very's  the  next  day, 
and  then  glided  off  towards  Madame  D'Anville. 


28  PELHAM;  OR, 

She  was  surrounded  with  men,  and  talking  to  each  with  that 
vivacity  which,  in  a  Frenchwoman,  is  so  graceful,  and  in  an  En- 
glishwoman would  be  so  vulgar.  Though  her  eyes  were  not  di- 
rected towards  me,  she  saw  me  approach  by  that  instinctive 
perception  which  all  coquettes  possess,  and  suddenly  altering 
her  seat,  made  way  for  me  beside  her,  1  did  not  lose  so  favor- 
able an  opportunity  of  gaining  her  good  graces,  and  losing  those 
of  all  the  male  animals  around  her.  I  sank  down  on  the  vacant 
chair  and  contrived,  with  the  most  unabashed  effrontery,  and 
yet,  with  the  most  consummate  dexterity,  to  make  everything 
that  I  said  pleasing  to  her,  revolting  to  some  one  of  her  attend- 
ants. Wormwood  himself  could  not  have  succeeded  better. 
One  by  one  they  dropped  off,  and  we  were  left  alone  among  the 
crowd.  Then,  indeed,  I  changed  the  whole  tone  of  my  conver- 
sation. Sentiment  succeeded  to  satire,  and  the  pretence  of  feel- 
ing to  that  of  affectation.  In  short,  I  was  so  resolved  to  please 
*hat  I  could  scarcely  fail  to  succeed. 

In  this  main  object  of  the  evening  I  was  not  however  solely 
employed,  I  should  have  been  very  undeserving  of  that  char- 
acter for  observation  which  I  flatter  myself  I  peculiarly  deser\'e, 
if   I  had  not,  during  the  three    hours    I    stayed   at   Madame 

D 's,  conned  over  every  person   remarkable  for  any  thing, 

from  rank  to  a  riband.  The  Duchesse  herself  was  a  fair,  pretty, 
clever  woman,  with  manners  rather  English  than  French.  She 
was  leaning,  at  the  time  I  paid  my  respects  to  her,  on  the  arm 
of   an    Italian    count,    tolerably    well    known    at   Paris.     Poor 

O i !     I  hear  he  is  since   married.     He   did   not  deserve 

so  heavy  a  calamity  ! 

Sir  Henry  Millington  was  close  by  her,  carefully  packed  up 
in  his  coat  and  waistcoat.  Certainly,  that  man  is  the  best 
padder  in  Europe, 

"  Come  and  sit  by  me,  Millington,"  cried  old  Lady  Oldtown  ; 
"  I  have  a  good  story  to  tell  you  of  the  Due  de ." 

Sir  Henry,  with  difficulty,  turned  round  his  magnificent 
head,  and  muttered  out  some  unintelligible  excuse.  The  fact 
was,  that  poor  Sir  Henry  was  not  that  evening  made  to  sit 
down — he  had  only  his  standing  up  coat  on  !  Lady  Oldtown — 
heaven  knows — is  easily  consoled.  She  supplied  the  place  of 
the  baronet  with  a  most  superbly  mustachioed  German, 

"  Who,"  said  I  to  Madame  d'Anville,  "  are  those  pretty  girls 
in  white,  talking  with  such  eagerness  to  Mr,  Aberton  and 
Lord  Luscombe  ?  " 

"  What !  "  said  the  Frenchwoman,  "  have  you  been  ten  days 
iu  Paris  and  not  been  introduced  to  the  Miss  Carltons  t     Let 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  29 

me  tell  you  that  your  reputation  among  your  countrymen  at 
Paris  depends  solely  upon  their  verdict." 

"  And  upon  your  favor,"  added  I, 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "you  must  have  had  your  origin  in  France  ; 
you  have  something  about  you  almost  Parisian^'' 

"  Pray,"  said  I,  (after  having  duly  acknowledged  this  com- 
pliment, the  very  highest  that  a  Frenchwoman  can  bestow,) 
"what  did  you  really  and  candidly  think  of  our  countrymen 
during  your  residence  in  England  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  answered  Madame  d'Anville  ;  "  they  are 
brave,  honest,  generous,  jnais  Us  sont  demi-barbares  /"  * 


CHAPTER   XII. 


-Pia  mater 


Plus  quam  se  sapere,  et  virtutibus  esse  priorem 
Vult,  et  ait  prope  vera.t — Hor.  Sat. 

■Vere  (y)  mihi  festus  atras 


Eximet  curas. — HoR.  Or. 

The  next'morning  I  received  a  letter  from  my  mother.  "  My 
dear  Henry,"  began  my  affectionate  and  incomparable  parent — 

"  Mv  DEAR  Henry, 

"You  have  now  fairly  entered  the  world,  and  though  at  your 
age  my  advice  may  be  but  little  followed,  my  experience  cannot 
altogether  be  useless.  I  shall,  therefore,  make  no  apology  for 
a  few  precepts,  which  I  trust  may  tend  to  make  you  a  wiser  and 
a  belter  man. 

"  I  hope,  in  the  first  place,  that  you  have  left  your  letter  at  the 
ambassador's,  and  that  you  will  not  fail  to  go  there  as  often  as 

possible.     Pay  your  court  in  part'cular  to  Lady .     She  is 

a  charming  person,  universally  popular,  and  one  of  the  very  few 
English  people  to  whom  one  may  safely  be  civil.  Apropos  of 
English  civility,  you  have,  I  hope,  by  this  time  discovered  that 
you  have  to  assume  a  very  different  manner  with  French  people 

*  Rut  they  are  half-barbarians, 

1  With  satjc  advice,  and  many  a  sober  truth,  tlic  pious  mother  moulds  to  shape  'he 
youth.— Hawk F.'s  Para/'lirusi-. 

The  application  of  the  second  motto  rests  solely  upon  an  untranslatable  play  o( 
words. 


30  PELHAM;  OR, 

from  that  with  our  own  countrymen  :  with  us,  the  least  appear 
ance  of  feeUnof  or  enthusiasm  is  certain  to  be  ridiculed  every- 
where  ;  but  in  France,  you  may  venture  to  seem  not  quite  devoid 
of  all  natural  sentiments  ;  indeed,  if  you  affect  enthusiasm,  they 
will  give  you  credit  for  genius,  and  they  will  place  all  the 
qualities  of  the  heart  to  the  account  of  the  head.  You  know 
that  in  England,  if  you  seem  desirous  of  a  person's  acquaintance, 
you  are  sure  to  lose  it ;  they  imagine  you  have  some  design  upon 
their  wives  or  their  dinners  ;  but  in  France  you  can  never  lose 
by  politeness  ;  nobody  will  call  your  civility  forwardness  and 

pushing.     If  the  Princesse  de  T ,  and  the  Duchess  de  D , 

ask  you  to  their  houses  (which  indeed  they  will,  directly  you 
have  left  your  letters),  go  there  two  or  three  times  a  week,  if 
only  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  evening.  It  is  very  hard  to  be 
acquaifited  with  great  French  people,  but  when  you  are,  it  is  your 
own  fault  if  you  are  not  intimate  with  them. 

"  Most  English  people  have  a  kind  of  diffidence  and  scruple 
at^calling  in  the  evening — this  is  perfectly  misplaced  ;  the  French 
are  never  ashamed  of  themselves,  like  us,  whose  persons, 
families,  and  houses  are  never  fit  to  be  seen,  unless  they  are 
dressed  out  for  a  party. 

"  Don't  imagine  that  the  ease  of  French  manners  is  at  all 
all  like  what  lue  call  ease  ;  you  must  not  lounge  on  your  chair — 
nor  put  your  feet  upon  a  stool — nor  forget  yourself  for  one 
single  moment,  when  you  are  talking  with  women. 

"  You  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  gallantries  of  the 
French  ladies  ;  but  remember  that  they  demand  infinitely  greater 
attention  than  English  women  do ;  and  that  after  a  month's  in- 
cessant devotion,  you  may  lose  everything  by  a  moment's  neg- 
lect. 

"  You  will  not,  my  dear  son,  misinterpret  these  hints.  I  sup- 
pose, of  course,  that  all  your  liaisons  are  platonic. 

"  Your  father  is  laid  up  with  the  gout,  and  dreadfully  ill-tem- 
pered and  peevish  ;  however,  I  keep  out  of  the  way  as  much 
as  possible.  I  dined  yesterday  at  Lady  Roseville's  :  she  praised 
you  very  much,  said  your  manners  were  particularly  good,  and 
that  no  one,  if  he  pleased,  could  be  at  once  so  brilliantly  orig- 
inal, yet  so  completely  bon  ton.  Lord  Vincent  is,  I  understand, 
at  Paris  ;  though  very  tiresome  with  his  learning  and  Latin,  he 
is  exceedingly  clever  and  much  in  vogue  ;  be  sure  to  cultivate 
his  acquaintance. 

"  If  you  are  ever  at  a  loss  as  to  the  individual  character  of  a 
person  you  wish  to  gain,  the  general  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture will  teach  you  one  infallible  specific,— 3/?^?//^/;^  !    The  quan- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  31 

tity  may  vary  according  to  the  exact  niceties  of  art ;  but,  in  any 
quantity  and  in  any  quality,  it  is  more  or  less  acceptable,  and 
therefore  certain  to  please.  Only  never  (or  at  least  very  rarely) 
flatter  when  other  people,  besides  the  one  to  be  flattered,  are 
by ;  in  that  case  you  offend  the  rest,  and  you  make  even  your 
intended  dupe  ashamed  to  be  pleased. 

"  In  general  weak,  minds  think  only  of  others,  and  yet  seem 
only  occupied  with  themselves  ;  you,  on  the  contrary,  must  ap- 
pear wholly  engrossed  with  those  about  you,  and  yet  never  have 
a  single  idea  which  does  not  terminate  in  yourself :  a  fool,  my 
dear  Henry,  flatters  himself — a  wise  man  flatters  the  fool. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  child,  take  care  of  your  health — 
don't  forget  Coulon ;  and  believe  me  your  most  affectionate 
mother,  ''  F.  P." 

By  the  time  I  had  read  this  letter,  and  dressed  myself  for  the 
evening,  Vincent's  carriage  was  at  the  door.  I  hate  the  affec- 
tation of  keeping  people  waiting,  and  went  down  so  quickly 
that  I  met  his  facetious  lordship  upon  the  stairs.  "  Devilish 
windy,"  said  I,  as  we  were  getting  into  the  carriage. 

"  Yes,"  said  Vincent ;  "  but  the  moral  Horace  reminds  us  of 
our  remedies  as  well  as  our  misfortune — 

'  Jam  galeam  Pallas,  et  aegida, 
Currusque — parat ' — 

viz.  :  '  Providence  that  prepares  the  gale,  gives  us  also  a  great- 
coat and  a  carriage.'  " 

We  were  not  long  driving  to  the  Palais  Royal.  Ve'ry's  was 
crowded  to  excess — "  A  very  low  set !  "  said  Lord  Vincent, 
(who,  being  half  a  liberal,  is  of  course  a  thorough  aristocrat,) 
looking  round  at  the  various  English  who  occupied  the  apart- 
ment. 

There  was,  indeed,  a  motley  congregation  ;  country'  esquires  ; 
extracts  from  the  universities  ;  half-pay  officers ;  city  clerks  in 
frogged  coats  and  mustachios ;  two  or  three  of  a  better-looking 
description,  but  in  reality  half  swindlers,  half  gentlemen  :  all, 
in  short,  fit  specimens  of  that  wnndering  tribe,  which  spread 
over  the  continent  the  renown  and  ridicule  of  good  old  England. 

"  Garcon,garcon"  cried  a  stout  gentleman,  who  made  one  of 
three  at  the  table  next  to  us,  "  Donnez-nous  une  sole  friie  pour 
un,  ct  lies  poinmes  de  terre pour  trots  I  " 

"  Hump  !  "  said  Lord  Vincent ;  "  fine  ideas  of  English  taste 
these  garcons  must  entertain  ;  men  who  prefer  fried  soles  and 
potatoes  to  the  various  delicacies  they  can  command  here,  might, 


32  PELHAM;  OR, 

by  the  same  perversion  of  taste,  prefer  Bloomfield's  poems  to 
Byron's.  Delicate  taste  depends  solely  upon  the  physical  con- 
struction ;  and  a  man  who  has  it  not  in  cookery,  must  want  it  in 
literature.  Fried  sole  and  potatoes !  If  I  had  written  a  volume, 
whose  merit  was  in  elegance,  I  would  not  show  it  to  such  a 
man  ! — but  he  might  be  an  admirable  critic  upon  '  Cobbett's 
Register,'  or  '  Every  Man  his  own  brewer.'  " 

"  Excessively  true,"  said  I ;  "  what  shall  we  order  ?  " 

"  D'abord,  des  /mitres  d'  Ostend,^'  said  Vincent:  "as  to  the 
rest,"  taking  hold  of  the  carte,  "  deliberare  uttlia  mora  Jitillissima 
estr  * 

We  were  soon  engaged  in  all  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  a  din- 
ner. 

"  Fetimiis"  said  Lord  Vincent,  helping  himself  to  some  pou- 
let  a  V  Austerlitz,  "petitnus  bene  vivere, quod petis,  hie  est?  "  f 

We  were  not,  however,  assured  of  that  fact  at  the  termina- 
tion of  dinner.  If  half  the  dishes  were  well  conceived  and 
better  executed,  the  other  half  were  proportionably  bad.  Ve'ry 
is,  indeed,  no  longer  the  prince  of  restaurateurs.  The  low  En- 
glish who  have  flocked  thither,  have  entirely  ruined  the  place. 
What  waiter — what  cook  ca?i  possibly  respect  men  who  take  no 
soup,  and  begin  with  a  rbti;  who  know  neither  what  is  good 
nor  what  is  bad ;  who  eat  rognons  at  dinner  instead  of  at  break- 
fast, and  fall  into  raptures  over  sauce  Robert  znd  pieds  de  cochon  ; 
who  can  not  tell,  at  the  first  taste,  whether  the  beaune  is 
prejniere  qualite,  or  the  fricassee  made  of  yesterday's  chicken  ; 
who  suffer  in  the  stomach  after  a  champignon,  and  die  with  in- 
digestion of  a  truffle  ?  O  !  English  people,  English  people  ! 
why  can  you  not  stay  and  perish  of  apoplexy  and  Yorkshire 
pudding  at  home  ? 

By  the  time  we  had  drunk  our  coffee  it  was  considerably  past 
nine  o'clock,  and  Vincent  had  business  at  the  ambassador's  be- 
fore ten  ;  we  therefore  parted  for  the  night, 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Very's  ?  "  said  I,  as  we  were  at  the 
door. 

"  Why,"  replied  Vincent,  "  when  I  recall  the  astonishing  heat 
of  the  place,  which  has  almost  sent  me  to  sleep  ;  the  exceeding 
number  of  times  in  which  that  becasse  had  been  re-roasted,  and 
the  extortionate  length  of  our  bills,  I  say  of  Ve'ry's,  what  Ham- 
let said  of  the  world,  '  Weary,  stale,  and  unprofitable  I '  " 

*  To  deliberate  on  things  useful  is  the  most  useful  delay, 
t  We  seek  to  live  well — what  you  seek  is  here. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  33 


CHAPTER  Xlir. 

I  would  fight  with  proad  swords,  and  sink  point  on  the  first  plood  dravvc 
like  gentleman's. —  The  Chronicles  of  the  Canoiigate. 

I  STROLLED  idly  along  the  Palais  Royal  (which  English 
people,  in  some  silly  proverb,  call  the  capital oi  Paris,  whereas 
no  Frenchman  of  any  rank,  nor  French  woman  of  any  respecta- 
bility, is  ever  seen  in  its  promenades),  till,  being  somewhat 
curious  to  enter  some  of  the  smaller  cafes^  I  went  into  one  of 
the  meanest  of  them,  took  up  2,  Journal des  Spectacles,  and  called 
for  some  lemonade.  At  the  next  table  to  me  sat  two  or  three 
Frenchmen,  evidently  of  inferior  rank,  and  talking  very  loudly 
over  England  and  the  English.  Their  attention  was  soon 
fixed  upon  me. 

Have  you  ever  observed  that  if  people  are  disposed  to  think 
ill  of  you,  nothing  so  soon  determines  them  to  do  so  as  any  act 
of  yours,  which,  however  innocent  and  inoffensive,  differs  from 
their  ordinary  habits  and  customs  ?  No  sooner  had  my  lemon- 
ade made  its  appearance,  than  I  perceived  an  increased  sensa- 
tion among  my  neighbors  of  the  next  table.  In  the  first  place, 
lemonade  is  not  much  drunk,  as  you  may  suppose,  among  the 
French  in  winter  ;  and,  in  the  second,  my  beverage  had  an 
appearance  of  ostentation,  from  being  one  of  the  dearest 
articles  I  could  have  called  for.  Unhappily  I  dropped  my 
newspaper — it  fell  under  the  Frenchmen's  table ;  instead  of 
calling  the  gar^on,  T  was  foolish  enough  to  stoop  for  it  myself. 
It  was  exactly  under  the  feet  of  one  of  the  Frenchmen  ;  I  asked 
him  with  the  greatest  civility  to  move  ;  he  made  no  reply.  I 
could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  refrain  from  giving  him  a  slight, 
very  slight  push  ;  the  next  moment  he  moved  in  good  earnest ; 
the  whole  party  sprang  up  as  he  set  the  example.  The  offended 
leg  gave  three  terrific  stamps  upon  the  ground,  and  I  was 
immediately  assailed  by  a  whole  volley  of  unintelligible  abuse. 
At  that  time  I  was  very  little  accustomed  to  French  vehemence, 
and  perfectly  unable  to  reply  to  the  vituperations  I  received. 

Instead  of  answering  them,  T  therefore  deliberated  what  was 

best  to  be  done.     If,  thought  I,  I  walk  away,  they  will  think  me 

a, coward,  and  insult  me  in  the  streets  ;  if  I  challenge  them,  I 

shall    have  to  fight   with   men    probably  no  better  than  shop- 

3 


34  PELHAM;  OR, 

keepers ;  if  I  strike  this  most  noisy  among  them,  he  may  be 
silenced,  or  he  may  demand  satisfaction  :  if  the  former,  well  and 
good  ;  if  the  latter,  why  I  shall  have  a  better  excuse  for  fighting 
him  than  I  should  have  now. 

My  resolution  was  therefore  taken.  I  was  never  more  free 
from  passion  in  my  life,  and  it  was,  therefore,  with  the  utmost 
calmness  and  composure  that,  in  the  midst  of  my  antagonist's 
harangue,  I  raised  my  hand  and — quietly  knocked  him  down. 

He  rose  in  a  moment.  "  Soiio/is,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone,  "  a 
Frenchman  never  forgives  a  blow  !  " 

At  that  moment,  an  Englishman,  who  had  been  sitting 
unnoticed  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  cafe,  came  up  and  took 
me  aside. 

,  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  don't  think  of  fighting  the  man ;  he  is  a 
tradesman  in  the  Rue  St.  Honord.  I  myself  have  seen  him 
behind  the  counter ;  remember  that  '  a  ram  may  kill  a 
butcher:  " 

"  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  ^-hnnk  you  a  thousand  times  for  your 
information.  Fight,  however,  I  must,  -nd  I'll  give  you,  like  the 
Irishman,  my  reasons  afterwards  ;  pet ':aps  you'll  be  my  second." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  iho  Englishman  (a  Frenchman  would 
have  said,  "  withpatn  I ") 

We  left  the  cafi  together.  My  countryman  asked  them  if  he 
should  go  to  the  gunsmiths  for  the  pistols. 

"Pistols!"  said  the  Frenchman's  second;  "we  will  only 
fight  with  swords." 

"  No,  no,"  said  my  new  friend.  "  '  On  ne  prettd  pas  le  lievre 
au  tambourin:  We  are  the  challenged,  and  therefore  have  the 
choice  of  weapons." 

Luckily  I  overheard  this  dispute,  and  called  to  my  second — • 
*'  Swords  or  pistols,"  said  I,  "it  is  quite  the  same  to  me.  I  am 
not  bad  at  either,  only  do  make  haste." 

Swords,  then,  were  chosen,  and  soon  procured.  Frenchmen 
never  grow  cool  upon  their  quarrels  ;  and,  as  it  was  a  fine, 
clear,  starlight  night,  we  went  forthwith  to  i\-iQ.Bois  de Boulogne. 
We  fixed  our  ground  on  a  spot  tolerably  retired,  and,  I  should 
think,  pretty  often  frequented  for  the  same  purpose.  I  was 
exceedingly  confident,  f'^r  I  knew  myself  to  have  few  equals  in 
the  art  of  fencnig ;  and  I  had  all  the  advantage  of  coolness, 
which  my  hero  was  a  great  deal  too  much  in  earnest  to  possess. 
We  jo'.ned  swords,  and  in  a  few  moments  I  discovered  that  my 
opponent's  life-  was  at  my  disposal. 

"  Oest  bien,^^  thought  I  :  "  for  once  I'll  behave  handsomely." 

The  Frenchman   made    a   desperate    lunge.      I    struck   his 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  35 

sword  from  his  hand,  caught  it  instantly,  and,  presenting  it  to 
him  again,  said — 

"  I  think  myself  peculiarly  fortunate  that  I  may  now  apolo- 
gize for  the  affront  I  have  put  upon  you.  Will  you  permit  my 
sincerest  apologies  to  suffice  ?  A  man  who  can  so  well  resent 
an  injury,  can  forgive  one." 

Was  there  ever  a  Frenchman  not  taken  by  a  fine  phrase  ? 
My  hero  received  the  sword  with  a  low  bow — the  tears  came 
into  his  eyes. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  you  have  twice  conquered." 

We  left  the  spot  with  the  greatest  amity  and  affection,  and  re- 
entered, with  a  profusion  of  bows,  our  ^^m^xzS.  fiacres. 

"  Let  me,"  I  said,  when  I  found  myself  alone  with  my 
second,  "  let  me  thank  you  most  cordially  for  your  assistance  ; 
and  allow  me  to  cultivate  an  acquaintance  so  singularly  begun. 
I  lodge  at  the  Hotel  de ,  Rue  de  Rivoli ;  my  name  is  Pel- 
ham.     Yours  is — " 

"  Thornton,"  replied  my  countryman.  "  I  will  lose  no  time 
in  profiting  by  an  offer  of  acquaintance  which  does  me  so  much 
honor." 

With  these  and  various  other  fine  speeches,  we  employed  the 
time  till  I  was  set  down  at  my  hotel ;  and  my  companion, 
drawing  his  cloak  round  him,  departed  on  foot,  to  fulfil  (he 
said,  \vith  a  mysterious  air)  a  certain  assignation  in  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Ger7nain. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


Erat  homo  ingeniosus,  acutus,  acer,  et  qui  plurimum  et  salis  haberct  ct 
feliis,  nee  candoris  minus.* — Pliny. 

I  DO  not  know  a  more  difficult  character  to  describe  than  Lord 
Vincent's.  Did  I  imitate  certain  writers,  who  think  that  the 
whole  art  of  portraying  individual  character  is  to  seize  hold  of 
some  prominent  peculiarity  and  to  introduce  this  distinguishing 
trait,  in  all  times  and  in  all  scenes,  the  difficulty  would  be  re- 
moved. I  should  only  have  to  present  to  the  reader  a  man, 
whose  conversation  was  nothing  but  alternate  jest  and  quotation 
— a  due  union  of  Yorick  and  Partridge.  This  would,  however, 
be  rendering  great  injustice  to  the  character  I  wish  to  delineate. 

*  "  He  was  a  clever  and  able  man — acute,  sharp — with  abundance  of  wit  and  no  less 
of  candor." — Cooke. 


36  PELHAM;  OR, 

There  were  times  when  Vincent  was  earnestly  engrossed  in  dis' 
cussion  in  which  a  jest  rarely  escaped  him,  and  quotation  was 
introduced  only  as  a  serious  illustration,  not  as  a  humorous  pe- 
culiarity. He  possessed  great  miscellaneous  erudition,  and  a 
memory  perfectly  surprising  for  its  fidelity  and  extent.  He  was 
a  severe  critic,  and  had  a  peculiar  art  of  quoting  from  each  au- 
thor he  reviewed,  some  part  that  particularly  told  against  him. 
Like  most  men,  if  in  the  theory  of  philosophy  he  was  tolerably 
rigid,  in  its  practice  he  was  more  than  tolerably  loose.  By  his 
tenets  you  would  have  considered  him  a  veiy  Cato  for  stubborn- 
ness and  sternness  :  yet  was  he  a  very  child  in  his  concession  to 
the  whim  of  the  moment.  Fond  of  meditation  and  research,  he 
was  still  fonder  of  mirth  and  amusement  ;  and  while  he  was 
among  the  most  instructive,  he  was  also  the  boonest,  of  com- 
panions. When  alone  with  me,  or  with  men  whom  he  imagined 
like  me,  his  pedantry  (for  more  or  less,  he  always  was  pedantic) 
took  only  a  jocular  tone  ;  with  the  savant  or  the  bcl esprit,  it  be- 
came grave,  searching,  and  sarcastic.  He  was  rather  a  contra- 
dicter  than  a  favorer  of  ordinary  opinions  :  and  this,  perhaps,  led 
him  not  unoften  into  paradox  :  yet  was  there  much  unsoundness, 
even  in  his  most  vehement  notions,  and  the  strength  of  mind 
which  made  him  think  only  for  himself,  was  visible  in  all  the 
productions  it  created.  I  have  hitherto  only  given  his  conver- 
sation in  one  of  its  moods  ;  henceforth  I  shall  be  just  enough  oc- 
casionally to  be  dull,  and  to  present  it  sometimes  to  the  reader 
in  a  graver  tone. 

Buried  deep  beneath  the  surface  of  his  character,  was  a  hid- 
den, yet  a  restless  ambition  :  but  this  was  perhaps,  at  present,  a 
secret  even  to  himself.  We  know  not  our  own  characters  till 
time  teaches  us  self-knowledge  :  if  we  are  wise,  we  may  thank 
ourselves  ;  if  we  are  great,  we  must  thank  fortune. 

It  was  this  insight  into  Vincent's  nature  which  drew  us  closer 
together.  I  recognized  in  the  man,  who  as  yet  was  playing  a 
part,  a  resemblance  to  myself,  while  he,  perhaps,  saw  at  times 
that  I  was  somewhat  better  than  the  voluptuary,  and  somewhat 
wiser  than  the  coxcomb,  which  were  all  that  at  present  it  suited 
me  to  appear. 

In  person,  Vincent  was  short,  and  ungracefully  formed — bu- 
his  countenance  was  singularly  fine.  His  eyes  were  dark,  bright 
and  penetrating,  and  his  forehead  (high  and  thoughtful)  cort 
reeled  the  playful  smile  of  his  mouth,  which  might  otherwise 
have  given  to  his  features  too  great  an  expression  of  levity. 
He  was  not  positively  ill-dressed,  yet  he  paid  no  attention  to 
any  external  art,  except  cleanliness.     His  usual  garb  was  a 


,  ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  37 

brown  coat,  much  too  large  for  him,  a  colored  neckcloth,  a  spot- 
less waistcoat,  grey  trowsers,  and  short  gaiters;  add  to  these 
gloves  of  most  unsullied  doe-skin,  and  a  curiously  thick  cane, 
and  the  portrait  is  complete. 

In  manners,  he  was  civil  or  rude,  familiar  or  distant,  just  as 
the  whim  seized  him  ;  never  was  there  any  address  less  com- 
mon, and  less  artificial.  What  a  rare  gift,  by-the-by,  is  that  of 
manners  !  how  difficult  to  define — how  much  more  difficult  to 
impart !  Better  for  a  man  to  possess  them,  than  wealth,  beaut}', 
or  even  talent,  if  it  fall  short  of  genius — they  will  more  than  sup- 
ply all.  He  who  enjoys  their  advantages  in  the  highest  degree  : 
viz,  he  who  can  please,  penetrate,  persuade,  as  the  object  may 
require,  possesses  the  subtlest  secret  of  the  diplomatist  and  the 
statesman,  and  wants  nothing  but  luck  and  opportunity  to 
become  "great." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

Le  plaisir  de  la  societe  entre  les  amis  se  cultive  par  une  ressemblance  cle 
gout  siir  ce  qui  regarde  les  moeurs,  et  par  quelque  difference  d'opinions  sur 
les  sciences ;  par  \k  ou  Ton  s'affermit  dans  ses  sentiments,  on   Ton  s'exerce. 
et  Ton  s'intruit  par  la  dispute.* — La  Bruyere. 

There  was  a  party  at  Monsieur  de  V e's,  to  which  Vin- 
cent and  myself  were  the  only  Englishmen  invited  :  accordingly, 
as  the  Hotel  de  V.  was  in  the  same  street  as  my  hotel,  we  dined 
together  at  my  rooms,  and  walked  thence  to  the  minister's 
house. 

The  party  was  as  stiff  and  formal  as  such  assemblies  invariably 
are,    and  we  were  both    delighted  when    we    espied   Monsieur 

d'A ,  a  man  of   much   conversational  talent,   and  some 

celebrity  as  an  ultra  writer,  forming  a  little  group  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  room. 

We  took  advantage  of  our  acquaintance  with  the  urbane  French- 
man to  join  his  party ;  the  conversation  turned  almost  entirely 
on  literary  subjects.  Allusion  being  made  to  Schlegel's  His- 
tory of  Literature,  and  the  severity  with  which  he  speaks  of 
Helvetius,  and  the  philosophers  of  his  school,  we  began  to  dis- 
cuss what  harm  the  freethinkers  in  philosophy  had  effected. 

*  The  pleasure  of  society  amongst  friends  is  cultivated  by  resemblance  of  taste  as  to 
manners,  but  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to  mental  acquisitions.  Tlius  while  it  is 
contirmcd  by  congeniality  of  sentiments,  it  gains  exercise  and  instruction  by  intellec- 
tual discussion. 


J' 


8  PELHAM ;  OR, 


"  For  my  part,"  said  Vincent,  "  I  am  not  able  to  divine  why 
we  are  supposed,  in  works  where  there  is  much  truth,  and  little 
falsehood,  much  good,  and  a  little  evil,  to  see  only  the  evil  and  the 
falsehood,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  the  truth  and  the  good.  All 
men  whose  minds  are  sufficiently  laborious  or  acute  to  love  the 
reading  of  metaphysical  inquiries,  will  by  the  same  labor  and 
acuteness  separate  the  chaff  from  the  corn — the  false  from  the 
true.  It  is  the  young,  the  light,  the  superficial,  who  are  easily 
misled  by  error,  and  incapable  of  discerning  its  fallacy  ;  but  tell 
me  if  it  is  the  light,  the  young,  the  superficial,  who  are  in  the 
habit  of  reading  the  abstruse  and  subtle  speculations  of  the 
philosopher.  No,  no  !  believe  me  that  it  is  the  very  studies  Mon- 
sieur Schlegel  recommends  which  do  harm  to  morality  and  virtue  ; 
it  is  the  study  of  literature  itself  the  play,  the  poem,  the  novel, 
which  all  minds,  however  frivolous,  can  enjoy  and  understand, 
that  constitute  the  real  foes  of  religion  and  moral  improvement." 

''''Mafoi,^'  cried  Monsieur  de  G.  (who  was  a  little  writer,  and 
a  great  reader,  of  romances,)  "  why  you  would  not  deprive  us  of 
the  politer  literature — you  would  not  bid  us  shut  up  our  novels, 
and  burn  our  theatres  !  " 

"  Certainly  not  !  "  replied  Vincent ;  "  and  it  is  in  this  particu- 
lar that  I  differ  from  certain  modern  philosophers  of  our  own 
country,  for  whom,  for  the  most  part,  I  entertain  the  highest 
veneration.  I  would  not  deprive  life  of  a  single  grace,  or  a  sii>. 
gle  enjoyment ;  but  Iwould  counteract  whatever  is  pernicious  in 
whatever  is  elegant  :  if  among  my  flowers  there  is  a  snake,  I 
would  not  root  up  my  flowers,  I  would  kill  the  snake.  Thus, 
Avho  are  they  that  derive  from  fiction  and  literature  a  prejudicial 
effect .''  We  have  seen  already — the  light  and  superficial  ? — but 
who  are  they  that  derive  profit  from  them  ? — they  who  enjoy 
well  regulated  and  discerning  minds  ;  who  pleasure  ? — all  man- 
kind /  Would  it  not  therefore  be  better,  instead  of  depriving 
some  of  profit,  and  all  of  pleasure,  by  banishing  poetry  and 
fiction  from  our  Utopia,  to  correct  the  minds  which  find  evil, 
where,  if  they  were  property  instructed,  they  would  find  good  .-^ 
Whether  wo  agree  with  Helvetius,  that  all  men  are  born  with  an 
equal  capacity  of  improvement,  or  merely  go  the  length  with  all 
other  metajDhysicians,  that  education  can  improve  the  human 
mind  to  an  extent  yet  incalculable,  it  must  be  quite  clear,  that 
we  can  give  sound  views,  instead  of  fallacies,  and  make  common 
truths  as  easy  to  discern  and  adopt  as  common  errors.  But  if 
we  effect  this,  which  we  all  allow  is  so  easy,  with  our  children  ; 
if  we  strengthen  their  minds,  instead  of  weakening  them,  and 
clear  their  vision,  rather  than  confuse  it,  from  that  moment,  we 


1 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN:  39 

remove  the  prejudicial  effects  of  fiction,  and  just  as  we  have 
taught  them  to  use  a  knife,  without  cutting  their  fingers,  we 
teach  them  to  make  use  of  fiction  without  perverting  it  to  their 
prejudice.  What  philosopher  was  ever  hurt  by  reading  the 
novels  of  L  *  *  *,  or  seeing  the  comedies  of  Moliere  ?  You 
understand  me,  then,  Monsieur  de  G.,  I  do,  it  is  true,  think  that 
polite  literature  (as  it  is  termed)  is  prejudicial  to  the  superficial, 
but,  for  that  reason,  I  would  not  do  away  with  the  literature,  I 
would  do  away  with  the  superficial." 

"  I  deny,"  said  M.  d'A ,  "  that  this  is  so  easy  a  task — you 

cannot  make  all  men  wise." 

"  No,"  replied  Vincent !  "  but  you  can  all  children,  at  least  to 
a  certain  extent.  Since  you  cannot  deny  the  prodigious  effects 
of  education,  you  ;««j-/ allow  that  they  will,  at  least,  give  common 
sense  ;  for  if  they  cannot  do  this,  they  can  do  nothing.  Now, 
common  sense  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  distinguish  what  is  good 
and  evil,  whether  it  be  in  life  or  in  books  :  but  then  your  educa- 
tion must  not  be  that  of  public  teaching  and  private  fooling ;  you 
must  not  counteract  the  effects  of  common  sense  by  instilling 
prejudice,  or  encouraging  weakness  ;  your  education  may  not  be 
carried  to  the  utmost  goal,  but  as  far  as  it  does  go,  you  must  see 
that  the  road  is  clear.  Now,  for  instance,  with  regard  to  fiction, 
you  must  not  first,  as  is  done  in  all  modern  education,  admit  the 
disease,  and  then  dose  with  warm  water  to  expel  it :  you  must 
not  put  fiction  in  your  child's  hands  and  not  give  him  a  single 
principle  to  guide  his  judgment  respecting  it,  till  his  mind  has 
got  wedded  to  the  poison,  and  too  weak,  by  its  long  use,  to  digest 
the  antidote.  No  :  first  fortify  his  intellect  by  reason,  and  you 
may  then  please  his  fancy  by  fiction.  Do  not  excite  his  imagina- 
tion with  love  and  glory,  till  you  can  instruct  his  judgment  as  to 
what  love  and  glory  arc.  Teach  him,  in  short,  to  rc/lcci,  before 
you  permit  him  full  indulgence  to  iviaginc." 

Here  there  was  a  pause.  Monsieur  D'A looked  very  ill- 
pleased,  and  poor  Monsieur  de  G thought  that  somehow  or 

other  his  romance  writing  was  called  into  question.  In  order  to 
soothe  them,  I  introduced  some  subject  which  permitted  a  little 
national  flattery  ;  the  conversation  then  turned  insensibly  on  the 
character  of  the  French  people. 

"  Never,"  said  Vincent,  "  has  there  been  a  character  more  often 
described — never  one  less  understood.  You  have  been  termed 
superficial.  I  think,  of  all  people,  that  you  least  deserve  the 
accusation.  With  regard  to  the  fc7i>,  your  philosophers,  your 
mathematicians,  your  men  of  science,  are  consulted  by  those  of 
other  nations,  as  some  of   their  profoundcst   authorities.      With 


40  PELHAM;  OR, 

regard  to  the  many,  the  charge  is  still  more  unfounded.  Compare 
your  mob,  whether  of  gentlemen  or  plebeians,  to  those  of 
Germany,  Italy — even  England — and  I  own,  in  spite  of  my  na- 
tional prepossessions,  that  the  comparison  is  infinitely  in  your 
favor.  The  country  gentleman,  the  lawyer,  the /^/// /;w?/;r  of 
England,  are  proverbially  inane  and  ill-informed.  With  you,  the 
classes  of  society  that  answer  to  those  respective  grades,  have 
much  information  in  literature,  and  often  not  a  little  in  science. 
In  like  manner,  your  tradesmen,  and  your  servants,  are  of  better 
cultivated  and  less  prejudiced  minds  than  those  ranks  in  England. 
The  fact  is,  that  a// with  you  pretend  to  be  savans,  and  this  is  the 
chief  reason  why  you  have  been  censured  as  shallow.  We  see 
your  fine  gentleman,  ox  your  J>dit  bourgeois,  give  himself  the  airs 
of  a  critic  or  a  philosopher ;  and  because  he  is  neither  a  Scaliger 
nor  a  Newton,  we  forget  that  he  is  only  the  bourgeois  or  the  petit 
maitre,  and  brand  all  your  philosophers  and  critics  with  the 
censure  of  superficiality,  which  this  shallow  individual  of  a  shallow 
order  may  justly  have  deserved.  We,  the  English,  it  is  true,  do 
not  expose  ourselves  thus  :  our  dandies,  our  tradesmen,  do  not 
vent  second-rate  philosophy  on  the  human  mind,  nor  on  les  beaux 
arts  :  but  why  is  this  ?  Not  because  they  are  better  informed 
than  their  correspondent  ciphers  in  France,  but  because  they  are 
much  worse  informed  ;  not  because  they  can  say  a  great  deal 
more  on  the  subject,  but  because  they  can  say  nothing  at  all." 

"  You  do  us  more  than  justice,"  said  Mons.   d'A ,  "  in 

this  instance  :  are  you  disposed  to  do  us  justice  in  another  ?  It 
is  a  favorite  propensity  of  your  countrymen  to  accuse  us  of 
heartlessness  and  want  of  feeling.  Think  you  that  this  accusa- 
tion is  deserved  ? " 

"By  no  means,"  replied  Vincent.  "The  same  cause  that 
brought  on  you  the  erroneous  censure  we  have  before  mentioned, 
appears  to  me  also  to  have  created  this  :  viz.,  a  sort  of  Palais 
lioyal  vanity,  common  to  all  your  nation,  which  induces  you  to 
make  as  much  display  at  the  shop  window  as  possible.  You 
show  great  cordiality,  and  even  enthusiasm,  to  strangers  :  you 
turn  your  back  on  them — you  forget  them.  '  How  heartless  ! ' 
cry  we.  Not  at  all  ?  The  English  show  no  cordiality,  no  en- 
thusiasm to  strangers,  it  is  true  :  but  they  equally  turn  their 
backs  on  them,  and  equally  forget  them  !  The  only  respect, 
therefore,  in  which  they  differ  from  you,  is  the  previous  kind- 
ness ;  now  if  we  are  to  receive  strangers,  I  can  really  see  no  rea- 
son why  we  are  not  to  be  as  civil  to  them  as  possible  ;  and  so  far 
from  imputing  the  desire  to  please  them  to  a  bad  heart,  I  think 
it  a  thousand  times  more  amiable  and  benevolent  than   telling 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN.  41 

them  a  PAnglaise,  by  your  morosity  and  reserve,  that  you  do 
not  care  a  pin  what  becomes  of  them.  If  I  am  only  to  walk  a 
mile  with  a  man,  why  should  I  not  make  that  mile  as  pleasant 
to  him  as  I  can  ?  or  why,  above  all,  if  I  choose  to  be  sulky,  and 
tell  him  to  go  and  be  d — d,  am  I  to  swell  out  my  chest,  color 
with  conscious  virtue,  and  cry,  See  what  a  good  heart  I  have  ?  * 

Ah,  Monsieur  d'A ,  since  benevolence  is  inseparable  from 

all  morality,  it  must  be  clear  that  there  is  a  benevolence  in  little 
things  as  well  as  in  great,  and  that  he  who  strives  to  make  his 
fellow-creatures  happy,  though  only  for  an  instant,  is  a  much 
better  man  than  he  who  is  indifferent  to,  or  (w^hat  is  worse)  de- 
spises it.  Nor  do  I,  to  say  truth,  see  that  kindness  of  an  ac- 
quaintance is  at  all  destructive  to  sincerity  to  a  friend  ;  on  the 
contrary,  I  have  yet  to  learn,  that  you  are  (according  to  the  cus- 
toms of  your  country)  worse  friends,  worse  husbands,  or  worse 
fathers,  than  w-e  are  !  " 

"  What ! "  cried  I,  "  you  forget  yourself,  Vincent.  How  can 
the  private  virtues  be  cultivated  without  a  coal  fire  ?  Is  not 
domestic  affection  a  synonymous  term  with  domestic  hearth  ? 
and  where  do  you  find  either,  except  in  honest  old  England  ?  " 

"  True,"  replied  Vincent ;  "  and  it  is  certainly  impossible  for 
a  father  and  his  family  to  be  as  fond  of  each  other  on  a  bright 
day  in  the  7'iiileries,  or  at  Versat7/es,whh  music  and  dancing,  and 
fresh  air,  as  they  would  be  in  a  back  parlor,  by  a  smoky  hearth, 
occupied  entirely  by  /e  l>on  />ere,  et  la  homie  mere ;  while  the  poor 
little  children  sit  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  whispering  and 
shivering;  debarred  the  vent  of  all  natural  spirits,  for  fear 
of  making  a  noise  :  and  strangely  uniting  the  idea  of  the  domes- 
tic hearth  with  that  of  a  hob  goblin,  and  the  association  of  dear 
papa  with  that  of  a  birch  rod." 

We  all"  laughed  at  this  reply,  and  Monsieur  d'A ,  rising  to 

depart,  said,  "  Well,  well,  milord,  your  countiymen  are  great 
generalizers  in  philosophy  ;  they  reduce  human  actions  to  two 
grand  touchstones.  All  hilarity,  they  consider  the  sign  of  a 
shallow  mind;  and  all  kindness,  the  token  of  a  false  heart." 

*  Mr.  Penlham,  it  will  be  remembered,  has  prevised  the  reader,  that  Lord  Vincent 
was  somewhat  addicted  to  paradox.  His  opinions  on  the  French  character  are  to  be 
taken  with  a  certain  reserve.— /I aMc>-. 


42  PELHAM;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

-Quis  sapiens  bono 


Confidat  fragili  ?  * — Seneca. 
Grammatici  certant,  et  adhuc  sub  judice  lis  est.t — HOR. 

When  1  firstwentto  Paris  I  took  a  French  master  to  perfect  me 
in  the  Parisian  pronunciation.  This  "  Haberdasher  of  pronouns  " 
was  a  person  of  the  name  of  Margot.  He  was  a  tall,  solemn 
man,  with  a  face  of  the  most  imperturbable  gravity.  He  would 
have  been  inestimable  as  an  undertaker.  His  hair  was  of  a  pale 
yellow ;  you  would  have  thought  it  had  caught  a  bilious  com- 
pliant from  his  complexion ;  the  latter  was,  indeed,  of  so  sombre 
a  saffron,  that  it  looked  as  if  ten  livers  had  been  forced  into  a 
jaundice,  in  order  to  supply  its  color.  His  forehead  was  high, 
bald,  and  very  narrow.  His  cheek-bones  were  extremely  promi- 
nent, and  his  cheeks  so  thin,  that  they  seemed  happier  than  Py- 
ramus  and  Thisbe,  and  kissed  each  other  inside  without  any 
separation  or  division.  His  face  was  as  sharp  and  almost  as 
long  as  an  inverted  pyramid,  and  was  garnished  on  either  side 
by  a  miserable  half-starved  whisker,  which  seemed  scarcely  able 
to  maintain  itself  amidst  the  general  of  symptoms  of  atrophy 
and  decay.  This  charming  countenance  was  supported  by  a  fig- 
ure so  long,  so  straight,  so  shadowy,  that  you  might  have  taken  it 
for  the  monument  in  a  consumption  ! 

But  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  man  was  the  utter  and 
wonderful  gravity  I  have  before  spoken  of.  You  could  no  more 
have  coaxed  a  smile  out  of  his  countenance  than  you  could  out 
of  the  poker ;  and  yet  Monsieur  Margot  was  by  no  means  a 
melancholy  man.  He  loved  his  joke,  and  his  wine,  and  his  din- 
ner, just  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  of  a  fatter  frame  ;  and  it  was 
a  fine  specimen  of  the  practical  antithesis,  to  hear  a  good  story, 
or  a  jovial  expression,  leap  friskily  out  of  that  long  curved 
mouth  ;  it  was  at  once  a  paradox  and  a  pathos — it  was  the  mouse 
coming  out  of  its  hole  in  Ely  Cathedral. 

I  said  that  this  gravity  was  M,  Margot's  most  especial  char- 

*  What  wise  man  confides  in  the  fragile  ? — Seneca. 

t  Grammarians  dispute,  and  the  matter  is  still  under  consideration  of  the  judge.— 
Horace. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN  43 

acteristic.  I  forgot ; — be  had  two  others  equally  remarkable ; 
the  one  was  an  ardent  admiration  for  the  chivalrous,  the  other 
an  ardent  admiration  for  himself.  Both  of  these  are  traits  com- 
mon enough  in  a  Frenchman,  but  in  Monsieur  Margot  their  ex- 
cesses rendered  them  uncom?non.  He  was  a  most  ultra  speci- 
men of  le  chevalier  amoureux — a  mixture  of  Don  Quixote  and  the 
Due  de  Lauzun.  Whenever  he  spoke  of  the  present  tense,  even 
en  professeur,  he  always  gave  a  sigh  to  the  preterite,  and  an  anec- 
dote of  Bayard;  whenever  he  conjugated  a  verb,  he  paused  to 
tell  me  that  the  favorite  one  of  his  female  pupils  wasyi?  /'  aime. 

In  short,  he  had  tales  of  his  own  good  fortune,  and  of  other 
people's  brave  exploits,  which,  without  much  exaggeration,  were 
almost  as  long,  and  had  perhaps  as  little  substance,  as  himself ; 
but  the  former  was  his  favorite  topic :  to  hear  him,  one  would 
have  imagined  that  his  face,  in  borrowing  the  sharpness  of  the 
needle,  had  borrowed  also  its  attraction ; — and  then  the  pretti- 
ness  of  Monsieur  Margot's  modesty  ! 

■  "  It  is  very  extraordinary,"  said  he,  "  very  extraordinary,  for 
I  have  no  time  to  give  myself  up  to  those  affairs  :  it  is  not.  Mon- 
sieur, as  if  I  had  your  leisure  to  employ  all  the  little  preliminary 
arts  of  creating  la  belle  passion.  Non,  Monsieur,  I  go  to  church, 
to  the  play,  to  the  Tuileries,  for  a  brief  relaxation — and  me 
Toila  partoiit  accable'  \^\\h  my  good  fortune.  I  am  not  handsome, 
Monsieur,  at  least,  not  very ;  it  is  true,  that  I  have  expression,  a 
certain  air  noble,  (my  first-cousin.  Monsieur,  is  the  Chevalier  de 
Margot,)  and  above  all,  soul  in  my  physiogomy  ;  the  women  love 
soul.  Monsieur — something  intellectual  and  spiritual  always  at- 
tracts them  ;  yet  my  success  certainly  is  singular." 

"  Bah  !  Monsieur,''^  replied  I :  "  with  dignity,  expression,  and 
soul,  how  could  the  heart  of  any  Frenchwoman  resist  you  ?  No, 
you  do  youself  injustice.  It  was  said  of  Caesar,  that  he  was 
great  without  an  effort;  much  more,  then,  may  Monsieur  Mar- 
got be  happy  without  an  exertion." 

"  Ah,    Monsieur  !  "    rejoined    the    Frenchman,    still    looking 

"  As  weak,  as  earnest,  and  as  gravely  out 
As  sober  Lanesbro'  dancing  with  the  gout." 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,  there  is  a  depth  and  truth  in  your  remarks 
worthy  of  Montaigne.  As  it  is  impossible  to  account  for  the 
caprices  of  women,  so  it  is  impossible  for  ourselves  to  analyze 
the  merit  they  discover  in  us ;  but,  Monsieur,  hear  me — at  the 
house  where  I  lodge  there  is  an  I'jiglish  lady  en  pension.  Eh 
bien,  Monsieur,  you  guess  the  rest ;  she  has  taken  a  caprice  for 


44  PELHAM;  OR, 

me,  and  this  very  night  she  will  admit  me  to  her  apartment. 
She  is  very  handsome, — Ah^  qii^ elle  est  belle  !  laie  jolie petite  bouche. 
une  denture  eblouissante,  un  nez  tout  a  fait gree,  in  fine  quite  z.bou- 
ton  de  rose. 

I  expressed  my  envy  at  Monsieur  Margot's  good  fortune,  and 
when  he  had  sufficiently  dilated  upon  it,  he  withdrew.  Shortly 
afterwards  Vincent  entered —  "  I  have  a  dinner  invitation  for 
both  of  us  to-day,"  said  he  ;  "you  will  come  ? " 

"  Most  certainly,"  replied  I ;  "  but  who  is  the  person  we  are 
to  honor  ? " 

"A  Madame  Laurent,"  replied  Vincent;  "one  of  those 
ladies  only  found  at  Paris,  who  lived  upon  anything  rather  than 
their  income.  She  keeps  a  tolerable  table,  haunted  with  Poles, 
Russians,  Austrians,  and  idle  Frenchmen,  peregriuce gentis  amce- 
num  hospitium.  As  yet  she  has  not  the  happiness  to  be 
acquainted  with  any  Englishmen,  (though  she  boards  one  of  our 
countrywomen,  and  (as  she  is  desirous  of  making  her  fortune  as 
soon  as  possible)  she  is  very  anxious  of  having  that  honor". 
She  has  heard  vast  reports  of  our  wealth  and  wisdom,  and  flat- 
ters herself  that  we  are  so  many  ambulatory  Indies  :  in  good 
truth,  a  Frenchwoman  thinks  she  is  never  in  want  of  a  fortune 
as  long  as  there  is  a  rich  fool  in  the  world. 

Stultitiam  patiuntur  opes,' 

is  her  hope  :  and 

'Ut  tn/ortimatn,  sic  nos  te,  Celse,  feremus,' 

is  her  motto." 

"  Madame  Laurent !  "  repeated  I,  "  why,  surely  that  is  the 
name  of  Mons.  Margot's  landlady." 

"I  hope  not,"  cried  Vincent,  "for  the  sake  of  our  dinner;  he 
reflects  no  credit  on  her  good  cheer — 

'  Who  eats  fat  dinners,  should  himself  be  fat.'  " 

"At  all  events,"  said  I,  "  we  can  try  the  good  lady  for  once. 
I  am  very  anxious  to  see  a  countrywoman  of  ours,  probably  the 
very  one  you  speak  of  whom  Mons.  Margot  eulogizes  in  glow- 
ing colors,  and  who  has,  moreover,  taken  a  violent  fancy  for  my 
solemn  preceptor.     What  think  you  of  that,  Vincent  ?  " 

"Nothing  extraordinary,"  replied  Vincent;  "the  lady  only 
exclaims  with  the  moralist — 

'  Love,  virtue,  valor,  yea,  all  human   charms, 
Are  shrunk  and  centered  in  that  heap  of  bones 
Oh!  there  are  wondrous  beauties  in  i)\& grave!' '' 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  45 

I  made  some  punning  rejoinder,  and  we  sallied  out  to  earn  an 
appetite  in  the  Tuileries  for  Madame  Laurent's  dinner. 

At  the  hour  of  half-past  five  we  repaired  to  our  engagement 
Madame  Laurent  received  us  with  the  most  evident  satisfaction, 
and  introduced  us  forthwith  to  our  countrywoman.  She  was  a 
pretty,  fair,  shrewd-looking  person,  with  an  eye  and  lip,  which, 
unless  it  greatly  belied  her,  showed  her  much  more  inclined  to 
be  merry  and  wise,  than  honest  and  true. 

Presently  Monsieur  Margot  made  his  appearance.  Though 
very  much  surprised  at  seeing  me,  he  did  not  appear  the  least 
jealous  of  my  attentions  to  his  inamorata.  Indeed,  the  good 
gentleman  was  far  too  much  pleased  with  himself  to  be  suscep- 
tible to  the  suspicions  common  to  less  fortunate  lovers.  At 
dinner  I  set  next  to  the  pretty  Englishwoman,  whose  name  was 
Green. 

"Monsieur  Margot,"  said  I,  "has  often  spoken  to  me  of  you, 
before  I  had  the  happiness  of  being  personally  convinced  how 
true  and  unexagge rated  were  his  sentiments." 

"Oh!"  cried  Mrs.  Green,  with  an  arch  laugh,  "you  are  ac- 
quainted with  Monsieur  Margot,  then  ?  " 

"  I  have  that  honor,'"  said  I.  "  I  receive  from  him  every 
morning  lessons  both  in  love  and  languages.  He  is  perfect  mas- 
ter of  both." 

Mrs.  Green  burst  out  laughing. 

'■'■  Ah,  le  pamrreprofesseur  !"  cried  she.     "  He  is  too  absurd  !  " 
_  "  He  tells  me,"  said  I  gravely,  "  that  he  is  quite  accable  with 
his  bonnes  fortunes — possibly  he  flatters  himself  that  even  you 
are  not  perfectly  inaccessible  to  his  addresses." 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  the  fair  Mrs.  Green,  "can  you 
pass  by  this  street  about  half-past  twelve  to  night  ?  " 

"  I  will  make  a  point  of  doing  so,"  replied  I,  not  a  little  sur- 
prised by  the  question. 

"Do,"  said  she,  "and  now  let  us  talk  of  old  England." 

When  we  went  away,  I  told  Vincent  of  my  appointment. 

"  What !  "  said  he,  "eclipse  Monsieur  Margot  !     Impossible  !  " 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  I,  "  nor  is  it  my  hope  ;  there  is  some 
trick  afloat,  to  which  we  may  as  well  be  spectators." 

"  With    all  my  heart  !  "  answered    Vincent ;  "  let  us  go  till 

then  to  the  Duchesse  de  G ."     I  assented,  and  we  drove  to 

the  Rue  de . 

The  Duchesse  de  G was  a  fine  relic  of  the  ancicn  regime — 

tall  and  stately,  with  her  own  grey  hair  en'pe,  and  surmounted 
by  a  high  cap  of  the  most  dazzling  blonde.  She  had  been  one 
of  the  earliest  emigrants,  and  had  stayed  for  many  months  with 


46  PELHAM;  OR, 

my  mother,  whom  she  professed  to  rank  amongst  her  dearest 
friends.  The  Duchesse  possessed  to  perfection  that  singular 
melange  of  ostentation  and  ignorance  wliich  was  so  peculiar  to 
the  ante-revolutionists.  She  would  talk  of  the  last  tragedy  with 
the  emphatic  tone  of  a  connoisseur,  in  the  same  breath  that  she 
would  ask,  with  Marie  Antoinette,  why  poor  people  were  so  clam- 
orous for  bread,  when  they  might  buy  such  nice  cakes  for  two- 
pence a-piece  ?  "  To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  Irish,"  said  she 
one  day  to  an  inquisitive  marquess,  "  know  that  they  prefer  po- 
tatoes to  mutton  ! " 

Her  soirees  were  among  the  most  agreeable  at  Paris — she 
united  all  the  rank  and  talent  to  be  found  in  the  ultra  party,  for 
she  professed  to  be  quite  a  female  Meca^nas  ;  and  whether  it  was 
a  mathematician  or  a  romance-writer,  a  naturalist  or  a  poet,  she 
held  open  house  for  all,  and  conversed  with  equal  fluency  and 
self-satisfaction. 

A  new  play  had  just  been  acted,  and  the  conversation,  after 
a  few  preliminary  hoverings,  settled  upon  it. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  Duchesse,  *'  that  we  have  actors,  you 
authors  ;  of  what  avail  is  it  that  you  boast  of  a  Shakspeare, 
since  your  Liseton,  great  as  he  is,  can  not  be  compared  with 
our  Talma  .'' " 

"  And  yet,"  said  I,  preserving  my  gravity  with  a  pertinacity, 
which  nearly  made  Vincent  and  the  rest  of  our  compatriots 
assembled  lose  theirs,  "  Madame  must  allow  that  there  is  a 
striking  resemblance  in  their  persons,  and  the  sublimity  of 
their  acting  "i " 

"  Pour  (a,  feji  co?wiens"  replied  this  critique  de  V  Ecole  des 
J^em?nes.  "  Mais  cependant  Liseton  ria  pas  la  nature,  rdme,  la 
grandeur  de  Talma  r''  * 

"  And  will  you  then  allow  us  7io  actors  of  merit  ? "  asked 
Vincent. 

'•'■  Mais  out! — dans  Ic  genre  comigue,  par  exemple  votre  buffo 
Kcan  met  dix  fois  plus  d' esprit  et  de  dr oiler ie  dans  ses  roles  que  La 
Porter^ 

"  The  impartial  and  profound  judgment  of  Madame  admits 
of  no  further  discussion  on  this  point,"  said  I.  "  What  does 
she  think  of  the  present  state  of  our  dramatic  literature  ?  " 

"  Why,"  replied  Madame,  "  you  have  many  great  poets  ;  but 
when  they  write  for  the  stage,  they  lose  themselves  entirely  i 

*  I  grant  that,  but  Listen,  however,  has  not  the  nature,  the  soul,  the  grandeur,  of 
Talma. 

t  Yes,  in  comedy,  for  instance,  your  Kean  has  ten  times  more  vivacity  and  drollery 
than  La  Porte. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  47 

your  Valter  Scote's  play  of  Robe  Roi  is  very  inferior  to  his 
novel  of  the  same  name." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  I,  "  that  Byron  did  not  turn  his 
Childe  Harold  into  a  tragedy — it  has  so  much  energy,  action — 
variety  !  " 

"Very  true,"  said  Madame,  with  a  sigh;  "but  the  tragedy 
is,  after  all,  only  suited  to  our  nation — we  alone  carry  it  to 
perfection." 

"Yet,"  said  I,  "  Go/doni  wrote  ?ife7a  fine  tragedies." 

^'- Eh  bienf'  said  Madame,  "one  rose  does  not  constitute  a 
garden  !  " 

And  satisfied  with  this  remark,  la  femme  savante  turned  to  a 
celebrated  traveller  to  discuss  with  him  the  chance  of  discover 
ing  the  North  Pole. 

There  were  one  or  two  clever  Englishmen  present ;  Vincent 
and  I  joined  them. 

"  Have  you  met  the  Persian  prince  yet  ?  "  said  Sir  George 
Lynton  to  me  ;  "  he  is  a  man  of  much  talent,  and  great  desire 
of  knowledge.  He  intends  to  publish  his  observations  on 
Paris,  and  I  suppose  we  shall  have  an  admirable  supplement  to 
Montesquieu's  Lettres  Fersannes I" 

"  I  wish  we  had,"  said  Vincent :  "  there  are  few  better  satires 
on  a  civilized  country  than  the  observations  of  visitors  less 
polished  ;  while  on  the  contrary  the  civilized  traveller,  in  de- 
scribing the  manners  of  the  American  barbarian,  instead  of 
conveying  ridicule  upon  the  visited,  points  the  sarcasm  on  the 
visitor  ;  and  Tacitus  could  not  have  thought  of  a  finer  or  nobler 
satire  on  the  Roman  luxuries  than  that  insinuated  by  his 
treatise  on  the  German  simplicity." 

"  What,"    said    Monsieur   d'E (an    intelligent   ci-dcvani 

emigri),  "what  political  writer  is  ^t7/^r<)'//>'  esteemed  as  your  best:  " 

"  It  is  difficult  to  say,"  replied  Vincent,  "  since  with  so  many 
parties  we  have  many  idols  ;  but  I  think  I  might  venture  to  name 
Bolingbroke  as  among  the  most  popular.  Perhaps,  indeed,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  select  a  name  more  frequently  quoted  and 
discussed  than  his ;  and  yet  his  political  works  are  not  very 
valuable  from  political  knowledge  : — they  contain  many  lofty 
sentiments,  and  many  beautiful  yet  scattered  truths;  but  they 
were  written  when  legislation,  most  debated,  was  least  under- 
stood, and  ought  to  be  admired  ratlier  as  excellent  for  the  day 
than  admirable  in  themselves.  The  life  of  Bolingbroke  would 
convey  a  juster  moral  than  all  his  writings  :  and  the  author  who 
gives  us  a  full  and  impartial  memoir  of  that  extraordinary  man, 


48  PELHAM;  OR, 

will  have  afforded  both  to  the  philosophical  and  political  litera- 
ture of  England  one  of  its  greatest  desiderata." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Monsieur  d'E ,  "  that  your  national 

literature  is  peculiarly  deficient  in  biography — am  I  right  in  my 
opinion  ? " 

"  Indubitably  !  "  said  Vincent ;  "  we  have  not  a  single  work 
that  can  be  considered  a  model  in  biography  (excepting, /^r/z^/j-, 
Middleton's  Life  of  Cicero).  This  brings  on  a  remark  I  have 
often  made  in  distinguishing  your  philosophy  from  ours.  It 
seems  to  me  that  you  who  excel  so  admirably  in  biography, 
memoirs,  comedy,  satirical  observation  on  peculiar  classes,  and 
pointed  aphorisms,  are  fonder  of  considering  man  in  his  relation 
to  society  and  the  active  commerce  of  the  world,  than  in  the 
more  abstracted  and  metaphysical  operations  of  the  mind.  Our 
writers,  on  the  contrary,  love  to  indulge  rather  in  abstruse 
speculations  on  their  species — to  regard  man  in  an  abstract  and 
isolated  point  of  view,  and  to  see  him  think  alone  in  his  chamber, 
while  you  prefer  beholding  him  act  with  the  multitude  in  the 
world." 

"  It  must  be  allowed,"  said  Monsieur  d'E ,  "that  if  this  be 

true,  our  philosophy  is  the  most  useful,  though  yours  may  be  the 
most  profound." 

Vincent  did  not  reply. 

"  Yet,"  said  Sir  George  Lynton,  "  there  will  be  a  disadvantage 
attending  your  writings  of  this  description,  which,  by  diminishing 
their  general  applicability,  diminish  their  general  utility.  Works 
which  treat  upon  man  in  his  relation  to  society,  can  only  be 
strictly  applicable  so  long  as  that  relation  to  society  treated  upon 
continues.  For  instance,  the  play  which  satirizes  a  particular 
class,  however  deep  its  reflections  and  accurate  its  knowledge 
upon  the  subject  satirized,  must  necessarily  be  obsolete  when 
the  class  itself  has  become  so.  The  political  pamphlet,  admirable 
for  one  state,  may  be  absurd  in  another;  the  novel  which  exactly 
delineates  the  present  age  may  seem  strange  and  unfamiliar  to 
the  next;  and  thus  works  which  treat  of  men  relatively,  and  not 
man  in  se,  must  often  confine  their  popularity  to  the  age  and  even 
the  country  in  which  they  were  written.  While  on  the  other 
hand,  the  work  which  treats  of  man  himself,  which  seizes,  dis- 
covers, analyzes  the  human  mind,  as  it  is,  whether  in  the  ancient 
or  the  modern,  the  savage  or  the  European,  must  evidently  be 
applicable,  and  consequently  useful,  to  all  times  and  all  nations. 
He  who  discovers  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  or  the  origin  of 
ideas,  must  be  a  philosopher  to  every  people  who  have  veins  or 
ideas  :  but  he  who  even  most  successfully  delineates  the  manners 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  49 

of  one  country,  or  the  actions  of  one  individual,  is  only  the 
philosopher  of  a  single  country,  or  a  single  age.     If,   Monsieur 

d'E ,  you  will  condescend  to  consider  this,    you    will    see 

perhaps  that  the  philosophy  which  treats  of  man  in  his  relations 
is  not  so  useful,  because  neither  so  permanent  nor  so  invariable, 
as  that  which  treats  of  man  in  himself,"  * 

I  was  now  somewhat  weary  of  this  conversation,  and  though 
it  was  not  yet  twelve,  I  seized  upon  my  appointment  as  an  ex- 
cuse to  depart — accordingly  I  rose  for  that  purpose.  "  I  sup- 
pose," said  I  to  Vincent,  "  that  you  will  not  leave  your  discus- 
sion." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  he,  "  amusement  is  quite  as  profitable  to 
a  man  of  sense  as  metaphysics.     Allons." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


I  was  in  this  terrible  situation  when  the  basket  stopped. 
Oriental  Tales — History  of  the  Basket. 

We  took  our  way  to  the  street  in  which  Madame  Laurent 
resided.  Meanwhile  suffer  me  X.o  get  rid  of  myself.,  and  to  in- 
troduce you,  dear  Reader,  to  my  friend.  Monsieur  Margot,  the 
whole  of  whose  adventures  were  subsequently  detailed  to  me 
by  the  garrulous  Mrs.  Green. 

At  the  hour  appointed  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  my  fair 
countrywoman,  and  was  carefully  admitted.     He  was  attired  in 
a  dressing-gown  of  sea-green  silk,  in  which  his  long,  lean,  hun- 
gry body,  looked  more  like  a  starved  pike  than  any  thing  hu- 
man, 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  with  a  solemn  air,  "  I  return  you  my  best 
thanks  for  the  honor  you  have  done  me — behold  me  at  your 
feet !  " — and  so  saying,  the  lean  lover  gravely  knelt  down  on 
one  knee. 

"  Rise,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Green,  "  I  confess  that  you  have  won 
my  heart  ;  but  that  is  not  all — you  have  yet  to  show  that   you 

*  Vet  Hume  holds  the  contrary  opinion  to  this,  and  considers  a  pood  comedy  more 
durable  than  a  system  of  philosophy.  Hume  is  rifjht,  if  by  a  system  of  philosophy  is 
understood — a  pile  of  rucsscs,  false  but  plausible,  set  up  by  one  ape  to  be  destroyed  by 
the  next.  Ingenuity  cannot  rescue  error  from  oblivion  ;  but  the  moment  Wisdom  has 
discovered  Truth,  she  has  obt.-.ined  inimf)rtality.  —  Hut  is  Hume  ripht  when  he  suggests 
that  there  may  come  a  time  when  Addison  will  be  read  with  delight,  but  Locke  be 
utterly  forpoiten  t  For  my  part,  if  the  two  were  to  be  matched  for  posterity,  I  think 
the  ocfds  would  be  in  favor  of  I^ocke.  I  very  much  doubt  whether  five  hundred  years 
hence,  Add'son  will  be  read  at  aJl,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that,  a  thousand  years  hence, 
Locke  will  not  be  forgotten. 


so  PELHAM;   OR, 

are  worthy  of  the  opinion  I  have  formed  of  you.  It  is  not, 
Monsieur  Margot,  your  person  that  has  won  me — no  :  it  is 
your  chivalrous  and  noble  sentiments — prove  that  these  are 
genuine,  and  you  may  command  all  from  my  admiration." 

'*  In  what  manner  shall  I  prove  it,  madame  1  "  said  Monsieur 
Margot,  rising,  and  gracefully  drawing  his  sea  green  gown  more 
closely  round  him. 

"By  your  courage,  your  devotion,  and  your  gallantry  !  I  ask 
but  one  proof — you  can  give  it  me  on  the  spot.  You  remember, 
monsieur,  that  in  the  days  of  romance,  a  lady  threw  her  glove 
upon  the  stage  on  which  a  lion  was  exhibited,  and  told  her  lover 
to  pick  it  up.  Monsieur  Margot,  the  trial  to  which  I  shall  put 
you  is  less  severe. — Look,  (and  Mrs.  Green  threw  open  the  win- 
dow)— look,  I  throw  my  glove  out  into  the  street — descend  for 
it." 

"  Your  commands  are  my  law,"  said  the  romantic  Margot.  "  I 
will  go  forthwith,"  and  so  saying,  he  went  to  the  door. 

"  Hold,  sir  !  "  said  the  lady,  "  it  is  not  by  that  simple  manner 
that  you  are  to  descend — you  must  go  the  same  way  as  my 
glove,  out  of  the  window.''^ 

"  Out  of  the  window,  madame  !  "  said  Monsieur  Margot,  with 
astonished  solemnity  ;  "  that  is  impossible,  because  this  apart- 
ment is  three  stories  high,  and  consequently  I  shall  be  dashed 
to  pieces." 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  the  dame  ;  "  in  that  corner  of  the 
room  there  is  a  basket,  to  which  (already  foreseeing  your  deter- 
mination) I  have  affixed  a  rope  ;  by  that  basket  you  shall  descend. 
See,  Monsieur,  what  expedients  a  provident  love  can  suggest." 

"  H — e — m  !  "  said,  very  slowl}-.  Monsieur  Margot,  by  no 
means  liking  the  airy  voyage  imposed  upon  him  ;  "  but  the  rope 
may  break,  or  your  hand  may  suffer  it  to  slip." 

"  Feel  the  rope,"  cried  the  lady,  "to  satisfy  you  as  to  your 
first  doubt ;  and,  as  to  the  second,  can  you — ca/i  you  imagine 
that  my  affections  would  not  make  me  twice  as  careful  of  your 
person  as  of  my  own  ?  Fie  !  ungrateful  Monsieur  Margot ! 
fie!" 

The  melancholy  chevalier  cast  a  rueful  look  at  the  basket. 
"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  I  own  that  I  am  very  averse  to  the  plan 
you  propose  :  suffer  me  to  go  down  stairs  in  the  ordinary  way  ; 
your  glove  can  be  easily  picked  up  whether  yoi>r  adorer  goes 
out  of  the  door  or  the  window.  It  is  only,  madame,  when 
ordinary  means  fail,  that  we  should  have  recourse  to  the  ex- 
traordinary." 

"  Begone,   sir !  "  exclaimed    Mrs.  Green — "  begone  !      I   now 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  51 

perceive  that  your  chivalry  was  only  a  pretence.  Fool  that  I 
was,  to  love  you  as  I  have  done  ! — fool  that  I  was,  to  imagine 
a  hero  where  I  now  find  a " 

"  Pause,  madame,  I  will  obey  you — my  heart  is  firm — see 
that  the  rope  is  ! " 

"  Gallant  Monsieur  Margot !  "  cried  the  lady  :  and  going  to 
her  dressing-room,  she  called  her  woman  to  her  assistance.  The 
rope  was  of  the  most  unquestionable  thickness,  the  basket  of 
the  most  capacious  dimensions.  The  former  was  fastened  to  a 
strong  hook — and  the  latter  lowered. 

"  I  go,  madame,"  said  Monsieur  Margot,  feeling  the  rope  ; 
"but  it  really  is  a  most  dangerous  exploit." 

"  Go,  monsieur  !  and  St.  Louis  befriend  you  !  " 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Monsieur  Margot,  "  let  me  fetch  my  coat :  the 
night  is  cold,  and  my  dressing-gown  thin." 

"Nay,  nay,  my  chevalier,"  returned  the  dame,  "  I  love  you  in 
that  gown ;  it  gives  you  an  air  of  grace  and  dignity  quite  en- 
chanting." 

"  It  will  give  me  my  death  of  cold,  madame,"  said  Monsieur 
Margot  earnestly. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  the  Englishwoman  :  "  what  knight  ever  feared 
cold .-'  Besides,  you  mistake ;  the  night  is  warm,  and  you  look 
so  handsome  in  your  gown." 

"  Do  I !  "  said  the  vain  Monsieur  Margot,  with  an  iron  ex- 
pression of  satisfaction.  "  If  that  is  the  case,  I  will  mind  it  less  ; 
but  may  I  return  by  the  door  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  lady;  "you  see  that  I  do  not  require  too 
much  from  your  devotion — enter." 

"  Behold  me  1  "  said  the  French  master,  inserting  his  body 
into  the  basket,  which  immediately  began  to  descend. 

The  hour  and  the  police  of  course  made  the  street  empty ;  the 
lady's  handkerchief  waved  in  token  of  encouragement  and 
triumph.  When  the  basket  was  within  five  yards  of  the  ground, 
Mrs.  Green  cried  to  her  lover,  who  had  hitherto  been  elevating 
his  serious  countenance  towards  her,  in  sober,  yet  gallant 
sadness — 

"  Look,  look,  monsieur — straight  before  you." 

The  lover  turned  round,  as  rapidly  as  his  habits  would  allow 
him,  and  at  that  instant  the  window  was  shut,  the  light  extin- 
guished, and  the  basket  arrested.  There  stood  Monsieur  Mar- 
got upright  in  the  basket,  and  there  stopped  the  basket,  motion- 
less in  the  air ! 

What  were  the  exact  reflections  of  Monsieur  Margot,  in  that 
position,  I  can  not  pretend    to   determine,  because    he    never 


52  PELHAM;  OR, 

favored  me  with  them  ;  but  about  an  hour  afterwards,  Vincent 
and  I  (who  had  been  delayed  on  the  road),  strolling  up  the 
street,  according  to  our  appointment,  perceived,  by  the  dim 
lamps,  some  opaque  body  leaning  against  the  wall  of  Madame 
Laurent's  house,  at  about  the  distance  of  fifteen  feet  from  the 
ground. 

We  hastened  our  steps  towards  it ;  a  measured  and  serious 
voice,  which  I  well  knew,  accosted  us — 

"  P'or  God's  sake,  gentlemen,  procure  me  assistance.  I  am 
the  victim  of  a  perfidious  woman,  and  expect  every  moment  to 
be  precipitated  to  the  earth." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  said  I,  "  surely  it  is  Monsieur  Margot  whom 
I  hear.     What  are  you  doing  there  .''  " 

-  "  Shivering  with  cold,"  answered  Monsieur  Margot  in  a  tone 
tremulously  slow. 

'•  But  what  are  you  in  ?  for  I  can  see  nothing  but  a  dark  sub- 
stance." 

"  I  am  in  a  basket,"  replied  Monsieur  Margot,  "  and  I  should 
be  very  much  obliged  to  you  to  let  me  out  of  it." 

"Well — indeed,"  said  Vincent  (for  /was  too  much  engaged 
in  laughing  to  give  a  ready  reply),  "your  Chateau-AIargot  has 
but  a  cool  cellar.  But  there  are  some  things  in  the  world  easier 
said  than  done.  How  are  we  to  remove  you  to  a  more  desira- 
ble place  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  returned  Monsieur  Margot,  "  how  indeed  !  There  is, 
to  be  sure,  a  ladder  in  the  porter's  lodge  long  enough  to  dcr 
liver  me  ;  but  then,  think  of  the  gibes  and  jeers  of  the  porter  ! 
— it  will  get  wind — I  shall  be  ridiculed,  gentlemen — I  shall  be 
ridiculed — and  what  is  worse,  I  shall  lose  my  pupils." 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  I,  "  you  had  better  lose  your  pupils 
than  your  life  ;  and  the  day-light  will  soon  come,  and  then,  in- 
stead of  being  ridiculed  by  the  porter,  you  will  be  ridiculed  by 
the  whole  street !  " 

Monsieur  Margot  groaned.  "  Go,  then,  my  friend,"  said  he, 
"  procure  the  ladder  !  Oh,  those  she  devils  ! — what  could  make 
me  such  a  fool  !  " 

Whilst  Monsieur  Margot  was  venting  his  spleen  in  a  scarcely 
articulate  mutter,  we  repaired  to  the  lodge,  knocked  up  the 
porter,  communicated  the  accidc7it,  and  procured  the  ladder. 
However,  an  observant  eye  had  been  kept  upon  our  proceedings, 
and  the  window  above  was  re-opened,  though  so  silently  that  I 
only  perceived  the  action.  The  porter,  a  jolly,  bluff,  hearty- 
looking  fellow,  stood  grinning  below  with  a  lantern,  while  we 


AOrKXTCKES  OF  A  GEXTLEMAX.  S3 

set  the  ladder  (which  only  just  reached  the  basket)  agahist  the 
wall. 

The  chevalier  looked  wistfully  forth,  and  then,  by  the  light  of 
the  lantern,  we  had  a  fair  view  of  his  ridiculous  figure.  His 
teeth  chattered  wofuUy,  and  the  united  cold  without  and  anxiety 
within,  threw  a  double  sadness  and  solemnity  upon  his  withered 
countenance.  The  night  was  very  windy,  and  every  instant  a 
rapid  current  seized  the  unhappy  sea-green  vesture,  whirled  it 
in  the  air,  and  threw  it,  as  if  in  scorn,  over  the  very  face  of  the 
miserable  professor.  The  constant  recurrence  of  this  sportive 
irreverence  of  the  gales — the  high  sides  of  the  basket,  and  the 
trembling  agitation  of  the  inmate,  never  too  agile,  rendered  it  a 
work  of  some  time  for  Monsieur  Margot  to  transfer  himself 
from  the  basket  to  the  ladder.  At  length,  he  had  fairly  got  out 
one  thin,  shivering  leg. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  "  said  the  pious  professor — when  at  that  in- 
stant the  thanksgiving  was  checked,  and,  to  Monsieur  Margot's 
inexpressible  astonishment  and  dismay,  the  basket  rose  five  feet 
from  the  ladder,  leaving  its  tenant  with  one  leg  dangling  out, 
like  a  flag  from  a  balloon. 

The  ascent  was  too  rapid  to  allow  Monsieur  Margot  even 
time  for  an  exclamation,  and  it  was  not  till  he  had  had  sufficient 
leisure  in  his  present  elevation  to  perceive  all  its  consequences, 
that  he  found  words  to  say,  with  the  most  earnest  tone  of  thought- 
ful lamentation,  "  One  could  not  have  foreseen  this  ! — it  is  really 
extremely  distressing — would  to  Heaven  that  I  could  get  my 
leg  in,  or  my  body  out  !  " 

While  we  were  yet  too  convulsed  with  laughter  to  make  any 
comment  npon  the  unlooked-for  ascent  of  the  luminous  Monsieur 
Margot,  the  basket  descended  with  such  force  as  to  dash  the 
lantern  out  of  the  hand  of  the  porter,  and  to  bring  the  professor 
so  precipitately  to  the  ground,  that  all  the  bones  in  his  skin  rat- 
tled audibly. 

'■'■  Mon  Z>/>///"said  he,  "  I  am  done  for!  Be  witness  how 
inhumanly  I  have  been  murdered." 

We  pulled  him  out  of  the  basket,  and  carried  him  between  us 
into  the  porter's  lodge.  But  the  woes  of  Monsieur  Margot 
were  not  yet  at  their  termination.  The  room  was  crowded. 
There  was  Madame  Laurent, — there  was  the  German  count, 
whom  the  professor  was  teaching  French — there  was  the  French 
viscount,  whom  he  was  teaching  German — there  were  all  his 
fellow-lodgers,  the  ladies  whom  he  had  boasted  ^  the  men  he 
had  boasted  to.  Don  Juan,  in  the  infernal  regions,  could  not 
have  met  with  a  more  unwelcome  set  of  old  acquaintances  than 


54  PELHAM ;  OR, 

Monsieur  Margot  had  the  happiness  of  opening  his  bewildered 
eyes  upon  in  the  porter's  lodge. 

"  What !"  cried  they  all,  "  Monsieur  Margot,  is  that  you  who 
have  been  frightening  us  so  ?  We  thought  the  house  was  at- 
tacked. The  Russian  general  is  at  this  very  moment  loading 
his  pistols ;  lucky  for  you  that  you  did  not  choose  to  stay  longer 
in  that  situation.  Pray,  monsieur,  what  could  induce  you  to  ex- 
hibit yourself  so,  in  your  dressing-gown  too,  and  the  night  so 
cold  ?     Ar'n't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ?  " 

All  this,  and  infinitely  more,  was  levelled  against  the  miserable 
professor,  who  stood  shivering  with  cold  and  fright ;  and  turn- 
ing his  eyes  first  on  one,  and  then  on  another,  as  the  exclama- 
tions circulated  round  the  room. 

"  I  do  assure  you "  at  length  he  began. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  one,  "  it  is  of  no  use  explaining  now  !  " 

"  Mais   Messieurs "  querulously    recommenced    the    ur> 

happy  Margot. 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  exclaimed  Madame  Laurent,  "you 
have  been  disgracing  my  house." 

"  Mais,  Madajne,  ecoutez-moi " 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  German,  "  we  saw  you — we  saw  you." 

"  Mais,  Mofisieur  le  Comte " 

**  Fie,  fie  !  "  cried  the  Frenchman. 

"  Mais,  Monsie?ir  le  Vicomte " 

At  this  every  mouth  was  opened,  and  the  patience  of  Mon- 
sieur Margot  being  by  this  time  exhausted,  he  fiew  into  a  violent 
rage ;  his  tormentors  pretended  an  equal  indignation,  and  at 
length  he  fought  his  way  out  of  the  room,  as  fast  as  his  shat- 
tered bones  would  allow  him,  followed  by  the  whole  body, 
screaming,  and  shouting,  and  scolding,  and  laughing  after  him. 

The  next  morning  passed  without  my  usual  lesson  from  Mon- 
sieur Margot ;  that  was  natural  enough  ;  but  when  the  next  day, 
and  the  next,  rolled  on,  and  brought  neither  Monsieur  Margot 
nor  his  excuse,  I  began  to  be  uneasy  for  the  poor  man.  Ac- 
cordingly I  sent  to  Madame  Laurent's  house  to  inquire  after 
him  :  judge  of  my  surprise  at  hearing  that  he  had,  early  the 
day,  after  his  adventure,  left  his  lodgings  with  his  small  posses- 
sion of  books  and  clothes,  leaving  only  a  note  to  Madame  Lau- 
rent, enclosing  the  amount  of  his  debt  to  her,  and  that  none  had 
since  seen  or  heard  of  him, 

From  that  day  to  this  I  have  never  once  beheld  him.  The 
poor  professor  lost  even  the  little  money  due  to  him  for  his  les- 
sons— so  true  is  it,  that  in  a  man  of  Monsieur  Margot's  temper, 
even  interest  is  a  subordinate  passion  to  vanity  ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  55 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

It  is  good  to  be  merry  and  wise, 

It's  good  to  be  honest  and  true  ; 
It  is  good  to  be  off  with  the  old  love, 

Before  you  be  en  with  the  new. —  Song. 

One  morning,  when  I  was  riding  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
(the  celebrated  place  of  assignation),  in  order  to  rneet  Madame 
d'Anville,  I  saw  a  lady  on  horseback,  in  the  most  imminent  dan- 
ger of  being  thrown.  Her  horse  had  taken  fright  at  an  English 
tandem,  or  its  driver,  and  was  plunging  violently  ;  the  lady  was 
evidently  much  frightened,  and  lost  her  2oresence  of  mind  more 
and  more  every  moment.  A  man  who  was  with  her,  and  who 
could  scarcely  manage  his  own  horse,  appeared  to  be  exceed- 
ingly desirous,  but  perfectly  unable,  to  assist  her  ;  and  a  great 
number  of  people  were  looking  on,  doing  nothing,  and  saying, 
"  Mon  Dieu,  how  dangerous  !  " 

I  have  always  had  a  great  horror  of  being  a  hero  in  scenes,  and 
a  still  greater  antipathy  to  '•'•females  in  distress."  However,  so 
great  is  the  effect  of  sympathy  upon  the  most  hardened  of  us, 
that  I  stopped  for  a  few  moments,  first  to  look  on,  and  secondly 
to  assist.  Just  when  a  moment's  delay  might  have  been  dan- 
gerous, I  threw  mj^self  off  my  horse,  seized  her's  with  one  hand, 
by  the  rein  which  she  no  longer  had  the  strength  to  hold,  and 
assisted  her  with  the  other  to  dismount.  When  all  the  peril  was 
over,  Monsieur,  her  companion,  managed  also  to  find  his  legs  ; 
and  I  did  not,  I  confess,  wonder  at  his  previous  delay,  when  I 
discovered  the  lady  in  danger  had  been  his  wife.  He  gave  me 
a  profusion  of  thanks,  and  slie  made  them  more  than  complimen- 
tary, by  the  glance  which  accompanied  them.  Their  carriage 
was  in  attendance  at  a  short  distance  behind.  The  husband 
went  for  it — I  remained  with  the  lady. 

"  Mr.  Pelham,"  she  said,  "  I  have  heard  much  of  you  from  my 
friend  Madame  d'Anville,  and  have  long  been  anxious  for  your 
acquaintance.  I  did  not  think  I  should  commence  it  with  so 
great  an  obligation." 

Flattered  by  being  already  known  by  name,  and  a  subject  of 
previous  interest,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  tried  every  method  to 
improve  the  opportunity  I  had  gained  ;  and  when  I  handed  my 


56  PELHAM;  OK, 

new  acquaintance  into  her  carriage,  my  pressure  of  her  hand 
was  somewhat  more  than  slightly  returned. 

"  Shall  you  be  at  the  English  ambassador's  to-night  ?  "  said 
the  lady,  as  they  were  about  to  shut  the  door  of  the  carriage. 

"  Certainly,  \i  you  are  to  be  there,"  was  my  answer. 

"We  shall  meet  then,"  said  Madame,  and  her  look  said  more. 

I  rode  into  the  Bois ;  and  giving  my  horse  to  my  servant,  as 
I  came  near  Passy.^  where  I  was  to  meet  Madame  d'Anville,  I 
proceeded  thither  on  foot.  I  was  just  m  sight  of  the  spot,  and 
indeed  of  my  inamorata,  when  two  men  passed,  talking  very 
earnestly  ;  they  did  not  remark  me,  but  what  individual  could 
ever  escape  my  notice  ?  The  one  was  Thornton  ;  the  other — 
who  could  he  be  ?  Where  had  I  seen  that  pale  and  remarkable 
countenance  before?  I  looked  again.  /was  satisfied  that  I 
was  mistaken  in  my  first  thought ;  the  hair  was  of  a  completely 
different  color.     "  No,  no,"  said  I,  "  it  is  not  he  :  yet  how  like  !  " 

I  was  distrait  and  absent  during  the  whole  time  I  was  with 
Madame  d'Anville.  The  face  of  Thornton's  companion  haunted 
me  like  a  dream  :  and,  to  say  the  truth,  there  were  also  mo- 
ments when  the  recollection  of  my  new  engagement  for  the  eve- 
ning made  me  tired  with  that  which  I  was  enjoying  the  trouble- 
some honor  of  keeping. 

Madame  d'Anville  was  not  slow  in  perceiving  the  coldness  of 
my  behavior.  Though  a  Frenchwoman,  she  was  rather  grieved 
than  resentful. 

"  You  are  growing  tired  of  me,  my  friend,"  she  said ;  "  and 
when  I  consider  your  youth  and  temptations,  I  cannot  be  sur- 
prised at  it — yet,  I  own,  that  this  thought  gives  me  much 
greater  pain  than  I  could  have  supposed." 

"  Bah !  ma  belle  amie,'''  cried  I,  "  you  deceive  yourself — I 
adore  you — I  shall  always  adore  you ;  but  it's  getting  very 
late  !  " 

Madame  d'Anville  sighed,  and  we  parted.  "  She  is  not  half 
so  pretty  or  agreeable  as  she  was,"  thought  I,  as  I  mounted 
my  horse,  and  remembered  my  appointment  at  the  ambassa- 
dor's. 

I  took  unusual  pains  with  my  appearance  that  evening,  and 
drove  to  the  ambassador's  hotel  in  the  Rue  Faubourg  St. 
Honore',  full  half  an  hour  earlier  than  I  had  ever  done  before. 
I  had  been  some  time  in  the  rooms  without  discovering  my 
heroine  of  the  morning.     The  Duchess  of  H n  passed  by. 

"  What  a  wonderfully  beautiful  woman  !  "  said  Mr.  Howard 
de  Howard,  a  lean  gentleman,  who  valued  himself  on  his  ances- 
tors, to  Mr,  Aberton. 


ADVENTURES  OP  A   GEMTLEMAN.  a 

"  Ay,"  answered  Aberton,  "  but  to  my  taste,  the  Duchesse  da 
Perpignan  is  quite  equal  to  her — do  you  know  ^er  ?  " 

"  No — yes  !  "  said  Mr.  Howard  de  Howard  :  "  that  is,  noi" 
exactly — not  well."  An  Englishman  never  owns  that  he  does 
not  know  a  duchess. 

"  Hem  !  "  said  Mr.  Aberton,  thrusting  his  large  hand  through 
his  lank  light  hair.  "  Hem — could  one  do  any  thing,  do  you 
think,  in  that  quarter  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  one  might,  with  a  tolerable  person  !  "  an- 
swered the  spectral  aristocrat,  looking  down  at  a  pair  of  most 
shadowy  supporters. 

"  Pray,"  said  Aberton,  "  what  do  you  think  of  Miss   ? 

they  say  she  is  an  heiress." 

"  Think  of  her  !  "  said  Mr.  Howard  de  Howard,  who  was  as 
poor  as  he  was  thin,  "  why,  I  /lave  thought  of  her !  " 

"  They  say  that  fool  Pelham  makes  up  to  her."  (Little  did 
Mr.  Aberton  imagine,  when  he  made  this  remark,  that  I  was 
close  behind  him.) 

"  I  should  not  imagine  that  was  true,"  said  the  secretary ; 
"  he  is  so  occupied  with  Madame  d'Anville." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Aberton,  dictatorially,  ''  s/ie  never  had  any 
thing  to  say  to  him," 

"  Why  are  you  so  sure  ?  "  said  Mr.  Howard  de  Howard. 

"Why — because  he  never  showed  any  notes  from  her,  nor 
ever  even  said  he  had  a  liaison  with  her !  " 

"  Ah  !  that  is  quite  enough  !  "  said  Mr.  Howard  de  Howard. 
"  But,  is  not  that  the  Duchesse  de  Perpignan  ?  " 

Mr.  Aberton  turned,  and  so  did  I — our  eyes  met — his  fell — 
well  they  might,  after  his  courteous  epithet  to  my  name  ;  how- 
ever, I  had  far  too  good  an  opinion  of  myself  to  care  one  straw 
about  his ;  besides,  at  that  moment,  I  was  wholly  lost  in  my 
surprise  and  pleasure,  in  finding  that  this  Duchesse  de  Perpig- 
nan was  no  other  than  my  acquaintance  of  the  morning.  She 
caught  my  gaze  and  smiled  as  she  bowed.  "  Now,"  thought 
I,  as  I  approached  her,  "  let  us  see  if  we  can  not  eclipse  Mr. 
Aberton." 

All  love-making  is  just  the  same,  and,  therefore,  I  shall  spare 
the  reader  my  conversation  that  evening.  When  he  recollects 
that  it  was  Henry  Pelham  who  was  the  gallant,  I  am  persuaded 
that  he  will  be  pretty  certain  as  to  the  success. 


5S  PELHAM;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Alea  sequa  vorax  species  certissima  fiirti 

Non  contenta  bonis,  animum  quoque  perfida  mergit: — 

Furca,  furax — infamis,  iners,  furiosa,  ruina.* — Petr.  Dial. 

I  DINED  the  next  day  at  Freres  Provengaux ;  an  excellent  res- 
taurateur's, by-tlie-by,  where  one  gets  irreproachable  gibier,  and 
meets  few  English. f  After  dinner,  I  strolled  into  the  various 
gambling-houses,  with  which  the  Palais  Royal  abounds. 

In  one  of  these  the  crowd  and  heat  were  so  great,  that  I  should 
immediately  have  retired  if  I  had  not  been  struck  with  the  intense 
expression  of  interest  in  the  countenance  of  one  of  the  specta- 
tors at  the  rouge  et  noir  table.  He  was  a  man  about  forty  years 
of  age  ;  his  complexion  was  dark  and  sallow  ;  the  features  prom- 
inent, and  what  are  generally  called  handsome  ;  but  there  was  a 
certain  sinister  expression  in  his  eyes  and  mouth,  which  rendered 
the  effect  of  his  physiognomy  rather  disagreeable  than  prepossess- 
mg.  At  a  small  distance  from  him,  and  playing,  with  an  air 
which,  in  its  carelessness  and  nonchalatice.,  formed  a  remarkable 
contrast  to  the  painful  anxiety  of  the  man  I  have  just  described, 
state  Mr.  Thornton. 

At  first  sight,  these  two  appeared  to  be  the  only  Englishmen 
present  beside  myself ;  I  was  more  struck  by  seeing  the  former 
in  that  scene  than  I  was  at  meeting  Thornton  there  ;  for  there 
was  something  distinguished  in  the  mien  of  the  stranger,  which 
suited  far  worse  with  the  appearance  of  the  place,  than  the  air 
and  dress  of  my  ci-devant  second. 

"  What !  another  Englishman  "i  "  thought  I,  as  I  turned  round 
and  perceived  a  thick,  rough  great-coat,  which  could  possibly 
belong  to  no  continental  shoulders.  The  wearer  was  standing 
directly  opposite  the  seat  of  the  swarthy  stranger  ;  his  hat  was 
slouched  over  his  face  ;  I  moved  in  order  to  get  a  clearer  view 
of  his  countenance.  It  was  the  same  person  I  had  seen  with 
Thornton  that  morning.  Never  to  this  moment  have  I  for- 
gotten the  stern  and  ferocious  expression  with   which  he  was 

*  Gaming,  that  direst  felon  of  the  breast. 

Steals  more  than  fortune  from  its  wretched  thrall. 

Spreads  o'er  the  soul  the  inert  devouring  pest. 

And  gnaws,  and  rots,  and  taints,  and  ruins  all. —  Paraphrase. 

t  Mr.   Pelham   could  not  say  as  much  tor  the   Frires  Provenfciux  at  present ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  59 

gazing  upon  the  keen  and  agitated  features  of  the  gambler  oppa 
site.  In  the  eye  and  lip  there  was  neither  pleasure,  hatred,  nor 
scorn,  in  their  simple  and  unalloyed  elements ;  but  each 
seemed  blent  and  mingled  into  one  deadly  concentration  of  evil 
passions. 

This  man  neither  played,  nor  spoke,  nor  moved.  He  ap- 
peared utterly  insensible  of  every  feeling  in  common  with  those 
around.  There  he  stood,  wrapped  in  his  own  dark  and  inscruta- 
ble thoughts,  never,  for  one  instant,  taking  his  looks  from  the 
varying  countenance  which  did  not  observe  their  gaze,  nor  alter- 
ing the  withering  character  of  their  almost  demoniacal  expres- 
sion. I  could  not  tear  myself  from  the  spot.  I  felt  chained  by 
some  mysterious  and  undefinable  interest ;  my  attention  was 
first  diverted  into  a  new  channel,  by  a  loud  exclamation  from 
the  dark-visaged  gambler  at  the  table  ;  it  was  the  first  he  had 
uttered,  notwithstanding  his  anxiety  ;  and,  from  the  deep,  thrill- 
ing tone  in  which  it  was  expressed,  it  conveyed  a  keen  sympa- 
thy with  the  overcharged  feelings  which  it  burst  from. 

With  a  trembling  hand,  he  took  from  an  old  purse  the  few 
Napoleons  that  were  still  left  there.  He  set  them  all  at  one 
hazard  on  the  rouge.  He  hung  over  the  table  with  a  dropping 
lip  ;  his  hands  were  tightly  clasped  in  each  other  ;  his  nerves 
seemed  strained  into  the  last  agony  of  excitation.  I  ventured 
to  raise  my  eyes  upon  the  gaze,  which  \felt  must  still  be  upon 
the  gambler — there  it  was  fixed,  and  stern  as  before  ! — but  it 
now  conveyed  a  deeper  expression  of  joy  than  it  had  hitherto 
assumed  ;  yet  a  joy  so  malignant  and  fiendish,  that  no  look  of 
mere  anger  or  hatred  could  have  equally  chilled  my  heart.  I 
dropped  my  eyes.  I  redoubled  my  attention  to  the  cards — the 
last  two  were  to  be  turned  up.  A  moment  more  ! — the  fortune 
was  to  the  noir.  The  stranger  had  lost !  He  did  not  utter  a 
single  word.  He  looked  with  a  vacant  eye  on  the  long  mace, 
with  which  the  marker  had  swept  away  his  last  hopes,  with  his 
last  coin,  and  then,  rising,  left  the  room,  and  disappeared. 

The  other  Englishman  was  not  long  in  following  him.  He 
uttered  a  short,  low  laugh,  unheard,  perhaps,  by  any  one  but 
myself  :  and,  pushing  through  the  atmosphere  of  sacres !  and 
m i lie  to?! ?ter res  f  which,  filled  that  pandemonium,  strode  quickly 
to  the  door.  I  felt  as  if  a  load  had  been  taken  from  my  bosom 
when  he  was  gone. 


6o  PELHAM;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XX. 
Reddere  personae  scit  convenientia  cuique.* — HoR.  Ars  Poet. 

I  WAS  loitering  over  my  breakfast  the  next  morning,  and 
thinking  of  the  last  night's  scene,  when  Lord  Vincent  was  an- 
nounced. 

"  How  fares  the  gallant  Pelham  ? "  said  he,  as  he  entered  the 
room. 

"  Why,  to  say  the  truth,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  rather  under  the 
influence  of  blue  devils  this  morning,  and  your  visit  is  like  a 
sun-beam  in  November." 

"  A  bright  thought,"  said  Vincent,  "  and  I  shall  make  you  a 
very  pretty  little  poet  soon ;  publish  you  in  a  neat  octavo,  and 

dedicate  you  to  Lady  D e.      Pray,  by-the-by,  have  you 

ever  read  her  plays  ?  You  know  they  were  only  privately 
printed  ? " 

"  No,"  said  I,  (for  in  good  truth,  had  his  lordship  interrogated 
me  touching  any  other  literary  production,  I  should  have  esteem- 
ed it  a  part  of  my  present  character  to  return  the  same  answer). 

"  No  !  "  repeated  Vincent ;  "  permit  me  to  tell  you,  that  you 
must  never  seem  ignorant  of  any  work  not  published.  To  be 
admired,  one  must  always  know  what  other  people  don't — and 
then  one  has  full  liberty  to  sneer  at  the  value  of  what  other  peo- 
ple do  know.  Renounce  the  threshold  of  knowledge.  There, 
every  new  proselyte  can  meet  you.  Boast  of  your  acquaintance 
with  the  sanctum,  and  not  one  in  ten  thousand  can  dispute  it 
with  you.     Have  you  read  Monsieur  de  C 's  pamphlet  ?  " 

"  Really,"  said  I,  "  I  have  been  so  busy  !  " 

"  Ah,  man  ami  f"  cried  Vincent,  "  the  greatest  sign  of  an  idle 
man  is  to  complain  of  being  busy.     But  you  have  had  a  loss  : 

the  pamphlet  is  good.     C ,  by  the  way,  has  an  extraordi- 

n^Lxy,  though  not  an  expanded  mind  :  it  is  like  a  citizen's  garden 
near  London  ;  a  pretty  parterre  here,  and  a  Chinese  pagoda 
there ;  an  oak  tree  in  one  corner,  and  a  mushroom  bed  in  the 
other :  and  above  all,  a  Gothic  Ruin  opposite  the  bay  window  ! 
You  may  traverse  the  whole  in  a  stride  ;  it  is  the  four  quarters 

*  The  appropriate  justice  sorts  each  shade  and  hue. 
And  gives  to  each  the  exact  proportion  due. — Paraphrase. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  6i 

of  the  globe  in  a  mole-hill.     Yet  everything  is  good  in  its  kind ; 
and  is  neither  without  elegance  nor  design  in  its  arrangement." 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  of  the  Earon  de the 

minister  of .''  " 

"  Of  him  !  "  replied  Vincent — 

" '  His  soul 
Still  sits  at  squat,  and  peeps  not  from  its  hole.' 

"  It  is  dark  and  bewildered — full  of  dim  visions  of  the  an- 
cient regime ; — it  is  a  bat  hovering  about  the  cells  of  an  old 
abbey.  Poor,  antique  little  soul :  but  I  will  say  nothing  more 
about  it — 

*  For  who  would  be  satirical 
Upon  a  thing  so  very  small 

as  the  soul  of  the  Baron  de !  " 

Finding  Lord  Vincent  so  disposed  to  the  biting  mood,  I  im- 
mediately directed  his  rabies  towards  Mr.  Aberton. 

"  Aberton,"  said  Vincent,  in  answer  to  my  question  if  he 
knew  that  amiable  young  gentleman — "  Yes  !  a  sort  of  man 
who,  speaking  of  the  best  society,  says  7ve — who  sticks  his  best 
cards  on  his  chimney-piece,  and  writes  himself  billets-doux  from 
duchesses.  A  duodecimo  of  '  precious  conceits,'  bound  in  calf- 
skin— I  know  the  man  well ,  does  he  not  dress  decently,  Pel- 
ham  ?  " 

"  His  clothes  are  well  made,"  said  I,  candidly. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Vincent,  "  I  should  think  he  went  to  the  best 
tailor,  and  said,  '  Give  me  a  collar  like  Lord  So  and  So's  ' ;  one 
who  would  not  dare  to  have  a  new  waistcoat  till  it  had  been 
authoritatively  patronized,  and  who  took  his  fashions,  like  his 
follies,  from  the  best  proficients.  vSuch  fellows  are  always  too 
ashamed  of  themselves  not  to  be  proud  of  their  clothes  ; — like 
the  Chinese  mariners,  they  burn  incense  before  the  needle!'''' 

"  And  Mr.  Howard  de  Howard,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  What !  the  thin  Eupatrid  ?  "  cried  Vincent.  "  He  is  the 
mathematical  definition  of  a  straight  line — length  without  breadth. 
His  inseparable  friend,  Mr.  Aberton,  was  running  up  the  Rue 
St.  Honore  yesterday  in  order  to  catch  him,  and  when  I  saw 
him  chasing  that  meagre  apparition,  I  said  to  Bennington,  '  I 
have  found  out  the  real  Peter  Schlcmil !  '  '  Whom  1  '  (asked 
his  grave  lordship,  with  serious  naivete) — '  Mr.  Aberton,'  said 
I  ;  '  don't  you  see  him  running  after  his  shadow  ?  '  But  the 
pride  of  the  lean   thing  is  so  amusing!     He  is  fifteenth  cousin 


62  PELHAM;  OK, 

to  the  duke,  and  so  his  favorite  exordium  is  '  Whenever  I  suc- 
ceed to  the  titles  of  my  ancestors.'  It  was  but  the  other  day, 
that  he  heard  two  or  three  silly  young  men  discussing  church 
and  state,  and  they  began  by  talking  irreligion — (Mr.  Howard 
de  Howard  is  too  unsubstantial  not  to  be  spiritually  inclined) — ■ 
however  he  only  fidgeted  in  his  chair.  They  then  proceeded 
to  be  exceedingly  disloyal.  Mr.  Howard  de  Howard  fidgeted 
again.  They  then  passed  to  vituperations  on  the  aristocracy  ; 
— this  the  attenuated  pomposity  (tnagni  nominis  umbra)  could 
brook  no  longer.  He  rose  up,  cast  a  severe  look  on  the  abashed 
youths,  and  thus  addressed  them — '  Gentlemen,  I  have  sate  by 
in  silence,  and  heard  my  King  derided,  and  my  God  blasphemed  ; 
but  now  when  you  attack  the  aristocracy,  I  can  no  longer  refrain 
from  noticing  so  obviously  intentional  an  insult.  You  have  be- 
come personal.^  " 

"  Pray,  Vincent,"  said  I,  after  a  short  pause,  "  did  you  ever 
meet  with  a  Mr.  Thornton  at  Paris  .-'  " 

"Thornton,  Thornton,"  said  Vincent,  musingly;  "what,  Tom 
Thornton  ?  " 

"  I  should  think,  very  likely,"  I  replied;  "just  the  sort  of 
man  who  would  be  Tom  Thornton — has  a  broad  face,  with  a 
color,  and  wears  a  spotted  neckcloth  ;  Tom — what  could  his 
name  be  but  Tom  ?  " 

"  Is  he  about  five-and-thirty  ?  "  asked  Vincent,  "  rather  short, 
and  with  reddish-colored  hair  and  whiskers  .''  " 

"  Precisely,"  said  I  :  "  are  not  all  Toms  alike  .-"  " 

"Ah,"  said  Vincent,  "I  know  him  well:  he  is  a  clever, 
shrewd  fellow,  but  a  most  unmitigated  rascal.  He  is  the  son  of 
a  steward  in  Lancashire,  and  received  an  attorney's  education ; 
but  being  a  humorous,  noisy  fellow,  he  became  a  great  favorite 
with  his  father's  employer,  who  was  a  sort  of  Meceenas  to  cud- 
gel-players, boxers,  and  horse-jockeys.  At  his  house,  Thornton 
met  many  persons  of  rank,  but  of  a  taste  similar  to  their 
host's ;  and  they,  mistaking  his  vulgar  coarseness  for  honesty, 
and  his  quaint  proverbs  for  wit,  admitted  him  into  their  society. 
It  was  with  one  of  them  that  I  have  seen  him.  I  believe  of 
late,  that  his  character  has  been  of  a  very  indifferent  odor  :  and 
what  ever  has  brought  him  among  the  English  at  Paris — those 
white-washed  abominations — those  '  innocent  blacknesses,'  as 
Charles  Lamb  calls  chimney-sweepers,  it  does  not  argue  well  for 
his  professional  occupations.  1  should  think  however,  that  he 
manages  to  live  here  ;  for  wherever  there  are  English  fools, 
there  are  fine  pickings  for  an  English  rogue." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  63 

"  Ay,"  said  I,  "  but  are  there  enough  fools  here  to  feed  the 
rogues  ? " 

"  Yes,  because  rogues  are  like  spiders,  and  eat  each  other, 
when  there  is  nothing  else  to  catch ;  and  Tom  Thornton  is  safe, 
as  long  as  the  ordinary  law  of  nature  lasts,  that  the  greater 
knave  preys  on  the  lesser, — for  there  cannot  possibly  be  a 
greater  knave  than  he  is  !  If  you  have  made  his  acquaintance, 
my  dear  Pelham,  I  advise  you  most  soberly  to  look  to  yoursell, 
for  if  he  doth  not  steal,  beg,  or  borrow  of  you,  Mr,  Howard  de 
Howard  will  grow  fat,  and  even  Mr.  Aberton  cease  to  be  a  fool. 
And  now  most  noble  Pelham,  farewell.  //  est  plus  aise  (Vetrc 
sage  pour  les  autres  que  de  Vetre  pour  soi-fneme.'"  * 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


This  is  a  notable  couple — and  have  met 

But  for  some  secret  knavery. —  Tke  Tanner  of  Tybtirn. 

I  HAD  now  been  several  weeks  in  Paris,  and  I  was  not  al- 
together dissatisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been 
spent.  I  had  enjoyed  myself  to  the  utmost,  while  I  had,  as  much 
as  possible,  combined  profit  with  pleasure  ;  viz.,  if  I  went  to  the 
Opera  in  the  evening,  I  learned  to  dance  in  the  morning  :  if  I 
drove  to  a  soiree  at  the  Duchesse  de  Perpignan's,  it  was  not  till  I 
had  fenced  an  hour  at  the  Salon  des  Assauts  d' Amies  ;  in  short, 
I  took  the  greatest  pains  to  complete  my  education. — I  wish  all 
young  men  who  frequented  the  Continent  for  that  purpose  could 
say  the  same  ! 

One  day  (about  a  week  after  the  conversation  with  Vincent, 
recorded  in  my  last  chapter)  I  was  walking  slowly  along  one  of 
the  paths  in  \\\q.  Jardiii  des  Plantes,  meditating  upon  the  variou.3 
excellences  of  the  Rocher  de  Cancale  and  the  Duchesse  de  Per- 
pignan,  when  I  perceived  a  tall  man,  with  a  thick,  rough  coat, 
of  a  dark  color  (which  I  recognized  long  before  I  did  the  face  of 
the  wearer)  emerging  from  an  intersecting  path.  He  stopped  a 
few  moments,  and  looked  around  as  if  expecting  some  one. 
Presently  a  woman,  apparently  about  thirty,  and  meanly  dressed, 
appeared  in  an  opposite  direction.  She  approached  him ;  they 
exchanged  a  few  words,  and  then,  the  woman  taking  his  arm, 
they  struck  into  another   path,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight.     1 

*  It  is  more  easy  to  be  wise  for  others  than  for  oneself. 


64  PELHAM;  OR, 

suppose  that  the  reader  has  already  discovered  that  this  man 
was  Thornton's  companion  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  the  hero 
of  the  gaming-house,  in  the  Palais  Royal.  I  could  not  have 
supposed  that  so  noble  a  countenance,  even  in  its  frowns,  could 
ever  have  wasted  its  smiles  upon  a  mistress  of  the  low  station 
to  which  the  woman  who  had  met  him  evidently  belonged. 
However,  we  all  have  our  little  foibles,  as  the  Frenchman  said, 
when  he  boiled  his  grandmother's  head  in  a  pipkin. 

I  myself  was,  at  that  time,  the  sort  of  person  that  is  always 
taken  by  a  pretty  face,  however  coarse  may  be  the  garments 
which  set  it  off ;  and  although  I  cannot  say  that  I  ever  stooped 
so  far  as  to  become  amorous  of  a  chambermaid,  yet  I  could  be 
tolerably  lenient  to  any  man  under  thirty  who  did.  As  a  proof 
of  this  gentleness  of  disposition,  ten  minutes  after  I  had  wit- 
nessed so  unsuitable  a  rencontre,  I  found  myself  following  a 
pretty  little  grisette  into  a  small  sort  of  cabaret,  which  was,  at  the 
time  I  speak  of  (and  most  probably  still  is),  in  the  midst  of  the 
gardens.  I  sat  down,  and  called  for  my  favorite  drink  of  lemon- 
ade :  the  little  grisette,  who  was  with  an  old  woman,  possibly  her 
mother,  and  un  beau  gros  garcon,  probably  her  lover,  sat  oppo- 
site, and  began  with  all  the  ineffable  coquetries  of  her  country, 
to  divide  her  attention  between  the  said  garcon  and  myself. 
Poor  fellow  he  seemed  to  be  very  little  pleased  by  the  signifi- 
cant glances  exchanged  over  his  right  shoulder,  and  at  last, 
under  pretence  of  screening  her  from  the  draught  of  the  opened 
window,  placed  himself  exactly  between  us.  This,  however 
ingenious,  did  not  at  all  answer  his  expectations  ;  for  he  had  not 
sutificiently  taken  into  consideration,  that  /  also  was  endowed 
with  the  power  of  locomotion  ;  accordingly  I  shifted  my  chair 
about  three  feet,  and  entirely  defeated  the  counter  march  of  the 
enemy. 

But  this  flirtation  did  not  last  long ;  the  youth  and  the  old 
woman  appeared  very  much  of  the  same  opinion  as  to  its  impro- 
priety ;  and  accordingly,  like  experienced  generals,  resolved  to 
conquer  by  a  retreat ;  they  drank  up  their  orgeat — paid  for  it — ■ 
placed  the  wavering  regiment  in  the  middle,  and  then  quitted  the 
field.  I  was  not,  however,  of  a  disposition  to  break  my  heart  at 
such  an  occurrence,  and  I  remained  by  the  window,  drinking  my 
lemonade,  and  muttering  to  myself,  "  After  all,  women  are  a 
bore  !  " 

On  the  outside  of  the  cabaret,  and  just  under  my  window,  was  a 
bench,  which,  for  a  certain  number  of  sous,  one  might  appropri- 
ate to  the  entire  and  unparticipated  use  of  one's-self  and  party. 
An  old  woman  (so  at  least  I  suppose  by  her  voice,  for  T  clid  not 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  65 

give  myself  the  trouble  of  looking, — though,  indeed  as  to  that 
matter,'it  might  have  been  the  shrill  treble  of  Mr.  Howard  de 
Howard  !)  had  been  hitherto  engrossing  this  settlement  with 
some  gallant  or  other.  In  Paris,  no  woman  is  too  old  to  get  an 
ainant,  either  by  love  or  money.  This  couple  soon  paired  off,  and 
was  immediately  succeeded  by  another.  The  first  tones  of  the 
man's  voice,  low  as  they  were,  made  me  start  from  my  seat.  I 
cast  one  quick  glance  before  I  resumed  it.  The  new  pair  were 
the  Englishman  I  had  before  noted  in  the  garden,  and  the  female 
companion  who   had  joined  him. 

"  Two  hundred  pounds,  you  say  ?  "  muttered  the  man  ;  "  we 
must  have  it  all." 

"  But,"  returned  the  woman,  in  the  same  whispered  voice,  "  he 
says,  that  he  will  never  touch  another  card." 

The  man  laughed.  "  Fool,"  said  he,  "  the  passions  are  not  so 
easily  quelled — how  many  days  is  it  he  had  this  remittance  from 
England  ?  " 

"  About  three,"  replied  the  woman. 

"And  is  it  absolutely  the  ver)'  last  remnants  of  his  property  ?  " 

"  The  last." 

"  I  am  then  to  understand,  that  when  this  is  spent  there  is 
nothing  between  him  and  beggary  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  woman,  with  a  half  sigh. 

The  man  laughed  again,  and  then  rejoined  in  an  altered  tone, 
"  Then,  then  will  this  parching  thirst  be  quenched  at  last.  I 
tell  you,  woman,  that  it  is  many  months  since  I  have  known  a 
day — night — hour,  in  which  my  life  has  been  as  the  life  of  other 
men.  My  whole  soul  has  been  melted  down  into  one  burning, 
burning  thought.  Feel  this  hand — ay,  you  may  well  start — but 
what  is  the  fever  of  the  frame  to  that  within  ? " 

Here  the  voice  sank  so  low  as  to  be  inaudible.  The  woman 
seemed  as  if  endeavoring  to  soothe  him  ;  at  length  he  said — 

"But  poor  Tyrrell — you  will  not,  surely,  suffer  him  to  starve, 
to  die  of  actual  want,  abandoned  and  alone  !  " 

"Alone!  no!"  cried  her  companion,  fiercely.  "When  the 
last  agonies  shall  be  upon  that  man — when,  sick  with  weariness, 
pain,  disease,  hunger,  he  lies  down  to  die — when  the  death- 
gurgle  is  in  the  throat,  and  the  eye  swims  beneath  the  last  dull 
film — when  remembrance  peoples  the  chamber  with  Hell,  and 
his  cowardice  would  falter  forth  its  dastard  recantation  to 
Heaven — then — may  I  be  t/icrel" 

There  was  a  long  pause,  only  broken  by  the  woman's  sobs, 
which  she  appeared  endeavoring  to  stifle.  At  last  the  man  rose, 
and  in  a  tone  so  soft  that  it  seemed  literally  like  music,  addressed 


66  PELHAM;  OR, 

her  in  the  most  endearing  tenrrs.  She  soon  yielded  to  their 
persuasion,  and  replied  to  them  with  interest. 

"  Spite  of  the  stings  of  my  remorse,"  she  said,  "  as  long  as  I 
lose  not  you,  I  will  lose  life,  honor,  hope,  even  soul  itself !  " 

They  both  quitted  the  spot  as  she  said  this. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


At  length  the  treacherous  snare  was  laid, 
Poor  pug  was  caught — to  town  convey'd  ; 
There  sold.  How  envied  was  his  doom, 
Made  captive  in  a  lady's  room  ! — Gay's  Fables. 

I  WAS  sitting  alone  a  morning  or  two  after  this  adventure,  when 
Bedos,  entering,  announced  tine  dame. 

This  dame  was  a  fine  tall  thing,  dressed  out  like  a  print  in  the 
Magasin  des  Modes.  She  sate  herself  down,  threw  up  her  veil, 
and,  after  a  momentary  pause,  asked  me  if  I  liked  my  apart- 
ment ? 

"Very  much," said  I,  somewhat  surprised  at  the  nature  of  the 
interrogatory. 

"Perhaps  you  would  wish  it  altered  in  some  way?  "  rejoined 
the  lady. 

'■'■  Non — Mille  remercimens  I"  said  I — "  you  are  very  good  to 
be  so  interested  in  my  accommodation." 

"  Those  curtains  might  be  better  arranged^ — that  sofa  replaced 
with  a  more  elegant  one,"  continued  my  new  superintendent. 

"  Really,"  said  I,  "  I  am  too  too  much  flattered.  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  have  my  room  altogether  :  if  so,  make  at  least 
no  scruple  of  saying  it." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  the  lady,  "I  have  no  objection  to  your 
staying  here." 

"  You  are  too  kind,"  said  I,  with  a  low  bow. 

There  was  pause  of  some  moments — I  took  advantage  of  it. 

"  I  think,  madame,  I  have  the  honor  of  speaking  to — to — 
to—" 

"  The  mistress  of  the  hotel,"  said  the  lady,  quietly.  "  I 
merely  called  to  ask  you  how  you  did,  and  hope  you  were  well 
accommodated." 

"  Rather  late,  considering  I  have  been  six  weeks  in  the  house," 
thought  I,  revolving  in  my  mind  various  reports  I  had  heard  of 
my  present  visitor's  disposition  to  gallantry.     However,  seeing 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN:  67 

it  was  all  over  with  me,  I  resigned  myself,  with  the  patience  of 
a  martyr,  to  the  fate  that  I  foresaw.  I  rose,  approached  her 
chair,  took  her  hand  (very  hard  and  thin  it  was  too),  and  thanked 
her  with  a  most  affectionate  squeeze. 

"  I  have  seen  much  English  !  "  said  the  lady,  for  the  first  time 
speaking  in  our  language. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  I,  giving  another  squeeze. 

"  You  are  a  handsome  gar^on,''^  renewed  the  lady. 

"  I  am  so,"  I  replied. 

At  that  moment  Bedos  entered,  and  whispered  that  Madame 
d'Anville  was  in  the  ante-room. 

"  Good  Heavens  !  "  said  I,  knowing  her  jealousy  of  disposi- 
tion, "  what  is  to  be  done  ?  Oblige  me,  madame,"  seizing  the 
the  unfortunate  mistress  of  the  hotel,  and  opening  the  door  to 
the  back  entrance — "  There,"  said  I,  "  you  can  easily  escape. 
£on  joiu-y 

Hardly  had  I  closed  the  door,  and  put  the  key  in  my  pocket, 
before  Madame  d'Anville  entered. 

"  Is  it  by  your  order  that  your  servant  keeps  me  waiting  in 
your  ante-room  ?  "  said  she,  haughtily. 

I  endeavored  to  make  my  peace  :  but  all  my  complaisance 
was  in  vain — she  was  jealous  of  my  intimacy  with  the  Duchesse 
de  Perpignan,  and  glad  of  any  excuse  to  vent  her  pique.  For- 
tunately, however,  she  was  going  to  the  Luxembourg ;  and 
my  only  chance  of  soothing  her  anger  was  to  accompany  her. 

Down  stairs,  therefore,  we  went,  and  drove  to  the  Luxem- 
bourg; I  gave  Bedos,  before  my  departure,  various  little  com- 
missions, and  told  him  he  need  not  be  at  home  till  the  evening. 
Long  before  the  expiration  of  an  hour,  Madame  d'  Anville's  ill- 
humor  had  given  me  an  excuse  for  affecting  it  myself.  Tired 
to  death  of  her,  and  panting  for  release,  I  took  a  high  tone — 
complained  of  her  ill-temper,  and  her  want  of  love — spoke  rap- 
idly— waited  for  no  reply,  and,  leaving  her  at  the  Luxembourg, 
proceeded  forthwith  to  Galignani's,  like  a  man  just  delivered 
from  a  strait-waistcoat. 

Leave  me  now,  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  reading-room  at 
Galignani's,  and  return  to  the  mistress  of  the  hotel,  whom  I  had 
so  unceremoniously  thrust  out  of  my  salon.  The  passage  into 
which  she  had  been  put  communicated  by  one  door  with  my 
rooms,  and  by  another  with  the  staircase.  Now,  it  so  happened, 
that  Bedos  was  in  the  habit  of  locking  the  latter  door,  and  keep- 
ing the  key;  the  other  egress,  it  will  be  remembered,  I  myself 
had  secured ;  so  tliat  the  unfortunate  mistress  of  the  hotel  was 
no  sooner  turned  into  this  passage,  than  she  found  herself  in  a 


68  PELHAM;  OR, 

sort  of  dwngeon,  ten  feet  by  five,  and  surrounded,  like  Eve  in 
Paradise,  by  a  whole  creation — not  of  birds,  beasts^  and  fishes, 
but  of  brooms,  brushes,  linen  for  the  laundress,  and — a  wood 
basket !  What  she  was  to  do  in  this  dilemma  was  utterly  incon- 
ceivable ;  scream,  indeed,  she  might,  but  then  the  shame  and 
ridicule  of  being  discovered  in  so  equivocal  a  situation,  were 
somewhat  more  than  our  discreet  landlady  could  endure.  Be- 
sides, such  an  expose  might  be  attended  with  a  loss  the  good 
woman  valued  more  than  reputation,  viz.,  lodgers  ;  for  the  pos- 
sessors of  the  two  best  floors  were  both  Englishwomen  of  a  cer- 
tain rank  ;  and  my  landlady  had  heard  such  accounts  of  our  na- 
tional virtue,  that  she  feared  an  instantaneous  emigration  of  such 
inveterate  prudes,  if  her  screams  and  situation  reached  their 
ears. 

Quietly  then,  and  soberly,  did  the  good  lady  sit,  eyeing  the 
brooms  and  brushes  as  they  grew  darker  and  darker  with  the 
approach  of  the  evening,  and  consoling  herself  with  the  cer- 
tainty that  her  release  must  eventually  take  place. 

Meanwhile,  to  return  to  myself — I  found  Lord  Vincent  at 
Galignani's,  carefully  looking  over  "  Choice  Extracts  from  the 
best  English  Authors." 

"  Ah,  my  good  fellow  !  "  said  he,  "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  : 
I  made  such  a  capital  quotation  just  now :  the  young  Benning- 
ton s  were  drowning  a  poor  devil  of  a  puppy  :  the  youngest  (to 
whom  the  mother  belonged)  looked  on  with  a  grave,  earnest 
face,  till  the  last  kick  was  over,  and  then  burst  into  tears. 
'  Why  do  you  cry  so  ? '  said  I.  '  Because  it  was  so  cruel  in  us 
to  drown  the  poor  puppy ! '  replied  the  juvenile  Philocunos. 
'Pooh!'  said  I ;  'Quid  juvat  erxoxes  mersdjafn  piippe  fateri  ? ' 
Was  it  not  good  "i — you  remember  it  in  Claudian,  eh,  Pelham  ? 
Think  of  its  being  thrown  away  on  those  Latinless  young  lub- 
bers !     Have  you  seen  anything  of  Mr.  Thornton  lately  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I've  not ;  but  I  am  determined  to  have  that 
pleasure  soon." 

"  You  will  do  as  you  please,"  said  Vincent,  "  but  you  will  be 
like  the  child  playing  with  edged  tools."      _ 

"  I  am  not  a  child,"  said  I,  "  so  the  simile  is  not  good.  He 
must  be  the  devil  himself,  or  a  Scotchman  at  least,  to  take  mem." 

Vincent  shook  his  head.  "  Come  and  dine  with  me  at  the 
Rocher,"  said  he  ;  "  we  are  a  party  of  six — choice  spirits  all." 

"  Volontiers ;  but  we  can  stroll  in  the  Tuileries  first,  if  you 
have  no  other  engagement." 

"None,"  said  Vincent,  putting  his  arm  in  mine. 

After  an  hour's  walk,  Vincent  suddenly  recollected  that  he  had 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   G  EXILE  MAX.  69 

a  commission  of  avery  important  nature  in  the  Rue  J.  J.  Rousseau. 
This  was — to  buy  a  monkey.  "  It  is  for  Wormwood,"  said  he, 
"  who  has  written  me  a  long  letter  describing  its  qualities  and 
qualifications.  I  suppose  he  wants  it  for  some  practical  joke — 
some  embodied  bitterness — Heaven  forbid  I  should  thwart  him 
in  so  charitable  a  design  !  " 

"  Amen,"  said  I  ;  and  we  proceeded  together  to  the  monkey- 
fancier.  After  much  deliberation,  we  at  last  decided  upon  the 
most  hideous  animal  I  ever  beheld — it  was  of  a — no,  I  will  not 
attempt  to  describe  it — it  would  be  quite  impossible  !  Vincent 
was  so  delighted  with  our  choice,  that  he  insisted  upon  carrying 
it  away  immediately. 

"  Is  it  quite  quiet .''  "  I  asked. 

"  Commc.  tin  oiseaii"  said  the  man. 

We  called  a  fiacre — paid  for  Monsieur  Jocko,  ana  drove  to 
Vincent's  apartments ;  there  we  found,  however,  that  his  valet 
had  gone  out  and  taken  the  key. 

"  Hang  it,"  said  Vincent,  "it  does  not  signify  !  We'll  carry 
petit-monsieur  with  us  to  the  Rocher." 

Accordingly  we  all  three  once  more  entered  \\\q.  fiacre,  and 
drove  to  the  celebrated  restaurateur's  of  the  Rue  Mont  Orgueil. 
Oh,  blissful  recollections  of  that  dinner !  how  at  this  moment 
you  crowd  upon  my  delighted  remembrance  !  Lonely  and  sorrow- 
ful as  I  now  sit,  digesting  with  many  a  throe  the  iron  thews  of  a 
British  beefsteak — more  Anglico — immeasurably  tough — I  see  the 
grateful  apparitions  of  Escallopcs  de  Saurnon  and  Laitances  de 
Carpes  rise  in  a  gentle  vapor  before  my  eyes  i  breathing  a  sweet 
and  pleasant  odor,  and  contrasting  the  dream-like  delicacies  of 
their  hue  and  aspect,  with  the  dire  and  dure  realities  which  now 
weigh  so  heavily  on  the  region  below  my  heart  !  And  thou,  most 
beautiful  of  all — thou  evening  star  of  entremets — thou  that 
delightest  in  truffles,  and  gloriest  in  a  dark  cloud  of  sauces — 
^\.(^\'i\\.Q.  foie  gras  ! — Have  I  forgotten  thee  ?  Do  I  not,  on  the 
contrary,  see  thee — smell  thee — taste  thee — and  almost  die  with 
rapture  of  thy  possession  ?  What,  though  the  goose,  of  which 
thou  art  a  part,  has,  indeed,  been  roasted  alive  by  a  slow  fire, 
in  order  to  increase  thy  divine  proportions — yet  has  not  our 
Ahnanach — the  Almanack  des  Gourmands — truly  declared  that 
the  goose  rejoiced  amid  all  her  tortures — because  of  the  gloiy 
that  awaited  her  ?  Did  she  not,  in  prophetic  vision,  behold  her 
enlarged  and  ennobled y?w  dilate  into  pates  and  steam  mio  sautes 
— the  companion  of  truffles — the  glory  of  dishes — the  delight — 
the  treasure — the  transport  of  gourmands  !  O,  exalted  among 
birds — apotheosized  goose,  did  not  thy  heart  exult  even   when 


70  PEL/JAM;  OR, 

thy  liver  parched  and  swelled  within  thee,  from  that  most 
agonizing  death  ;  and  didst  thou  not,  like  the  Indian  at  the  stake, 
triumph  in  the  very  torments  which  alone  could  render  thee 
illustrious  ? 

After  dinner  we  grew  exceedingly  merry.  Vincent  punned 
and  quoted ;  we  laughed  and  applauded ;  and  our  Burgundy 
went  round  with  an  alacrity  to  which  every  new  joke  gave  an 
additional  impetus.  Monsieur  Jocko  was  by  no  the  dullest  in 
the  party;  he  cracked  his  nuts  with  as  much  grace  as  we  did 
our  jests,  and  grinned  and  chattered  as  facetiously  as  the  best  of 
us.  After  coffee  we  were  all  so  pleased  with'  one  another,  that 
we  resolved  not  to  separate,  and  accordingly  we  adjourned  to 
my  rooms.  Jocko  and  all,  to  find  new  revelries  and  grow  bril- 
liant over  Cura^oa  punch. 

We  entered  my  salon  with  a  roar,  and  set  Bedos  to  work  at 
the  punch  .forthwith.  Bedos,  that  Ganymede  of  a  valet,  had 
himself  but  just  arrived,  and  was  unlocking  the  door  as  we 
entered.  We  soon  blew  up  a  glorious  fire,  and  our  spirits 
brightened  in  proportion.  Monsieur  Jocko  sate  on  Vincent's 
knee — "  iV^  monstrom,"  as  he  classically  termed  it.  One  of  our 
compotatores  was  playing  with  it.  Jocko  grew  suddenly  in 
earnest — a  grin — a  scratch,  and  a  bite,  were  the  work  of  a 
moment. 

*'  Ne  quid  nimis — now,"  said  Vincent,  gravely,  instead  of  en- 
deavoring to  soothe  the  afflicted  party,  who  grew  into  a  tower- 
ing passion.  Nothing  but  Jocko's  absolute  disgrace  could  in- 
deed have  saved  his  life  from  the  vengeance  of  the  sufferer. 

"  Whither  shall  we  banish  him  ?  "  said  Vincent. 

"  Oh,"  I  replied,  "  put  him  out  in  that  back  passage ;  the 
outer  door  is  shut ;  he'll  be  quite  safe  ;  "  and  to  the  passage 
he  was  therefore  immediately  consigned. 

It  was  in  this  place,  the  reader  will  remember,  that  the  hapless 
dame  du  Chateau  was  at  that  very  instant  in  "  durance 
vile."  Unconscious  of  this  fact,  I  gave  Bedos  the  key,  he  took 
the  condemned  monkey,  opened  the  door,  thrust  Jocko  in,  and 
closed  it  again.     Meanwhile  we  resumed  our  merriment. 

'■^  Nunc  est  bibendiim,'"  said  Vincent,  as  Bedos  placed  the  punch 
on  the  table.     "  Give  us  a  toast,  Dartmore." 

LordlDartmore  was  a  young  man  with  tremendous  spirits,  which 
made  up  for  wit.  He  was  just  about  to  reply,  when  a  loud  shriek 
was  heard  from  Jocko's  place  of  banishment :  a  sort  of  scram- 
ble ensued,  and  the  next  moment  the  door  was  thrown  violently 
open,  and  in  rushed  the  terrified  landlady,  screaming  like  a  sea- 
gull, and  bearing  aloft  upon  her  shoulder,  from  which  "  bad  emi 


ADl'ENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  71 

nence  "  he  was  grinning  and  chattering  witht  he  fury  of  fifty  devils. 
She  ran  twice  round  the  room,  and  then  sank  on  the  floor  in  hys- 
terics, feigned  or  real.  We  lost  no  time  in  hastening  to  her 
assistance ;  biat  the  warlike  Jocko,  still  sitting  upon  her,  refused 
to  permit  one  of  us  to  approach.  There  he  sat,  turning  from 
side  to  side,  showing  his  sharp,  white  teeth,  and  uttering  from 
time  to  time  the  most  menacing  and  diabolical  sounds. 

"  What  the  deuce  shall  we  do  ?  "  cried  Dartmore. 

"  Do  ?  "  said  Vincent,  who  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  and 
yet  endeavoring  to  speak  gravely  :  "  why,  watch  like  L.  Opimius, 
'  ne  qaid  respublica  detri?nenti  caperet.^  " 

"  By  Jove,  Pelham,  he  will  scratch  out  the  lady's  l>ea2ix  yeux," 
cried  the  good-natured  Dartmore,  endeavoring  to  seize  the  mon- 
key by  the  tail,  for  which  he  very  narrowly  escaped  with  an  un- 
mutilated  visage.  But  the  man  who  had  before  suffered  by 
Jocko's  ferocity,  and  whose  breast  was  still  swelling  with  revenge, 
was  glad  of  so  favorable  an  opportunity  and  excuse  for  wreak- 
ing it.  He  seized  the  poker,  made  three  strides  to  Jocko,  who 
set  up  an  ineffable  cry  of  defiance — and  with  a  single  blow  split 
the  skull  of  the  unhappy  monkey  in  twain.  It  fell  with  one  con- 
vulsion on  the  ground  and  gave  up  the  ghost. 

We  then  raised  the  unfortunate  landlady,  placed  her  on  the 
sofa,  and  Dartmore  administered  a  plentiful  potation  of  the 
Curgaoa  punch.  By  slow  degrees  she  revived,  gave  three 
most  doleful  suspirations,  and  then,  starting  up,  gazed  wildly 
around  her.  Half  of  us  were  still  laughing — my  unfortunate  self 
among  the  number;  this  the  enraged  landlady  no  sooner  per- 
ceived than  she  imagined  herself  the  victim  of  some  precon- 
certed villany.  Her  lips  trembled  with  passion — she  uttered  the 
most  dreadful  imprecations ;  and  had  I  not  retired  into  a  cor- 
ner, and  armed  myself  with  the  dead  body  of  Jocko,  which  I 
wielded  with  exceeding  valor,  she  might,  with  the  simple  weap- 
ons with  which  nature  had  provided  her  hands,  have  for  ever 
demolished  the  loves  and  graces  that  abide  in  the  face  of  Henry 
Pelham. 

When  at  last  she  saw  that  nothing  hostile  was  at  present  to 
be  affected,  she  drew  herself  uj),  and  giving  Bedos  a  tremen- 
dous box  on  the  ear,  as  he  stood  grinning  beside  her,  marched 
out  of  the  room. 

We  then  again  rallied  around  the  table,  more  than  ever  dis- 
posed to  be  brilliant,  and  kept  up  till  day-break  a  continued  fire 
of  jests  upon  the  heroine  of  the  passage  :  "  a/m  qua  (as  Vincent 
happily  observed)  clauditur  adversis  innoxia  simia  fatis  /" 


7i  FELHAM;  OK, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Show  me  not  thy  painted  beauties, 

These  impostures  I  defy. — George  Withers. 

The  cave  of  Falri  smelt  not  more  delicately ; — on  every  side  appeared 
the  marks  of  drunkenness  and  gluttony.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  cave  the 
sorcerer  lay  extended,  &c. 

Mirglip  the  Persian,  in  the  Tales  of  the  Genii. 

I  WOKE  the  next  morning  with  an  aching  head  and  feverish 
frame.  Ah,  those  midnight  carousals,  how  glorious  they  would 
be  if  there  were  «(7next  morning  !  I  look  my  sauterne  and  soda- 
water  in  my  dressing-room  :  and,  as  indisposition  always  makes 
me  meditative,  I  thought  over  all  I  had  done  since  my  arrival 
at  Paris.  I  had  become  (that.  Heaven  knows,  I  soon  manage 
'"o  do)  rather  a  talked-of  and  noted  character.  It  is  true  that  I 
was  everywhere  abused — one  found  fault  with  my  neckcloth — 
another  with  my  mind — the  lank  Mr.  Aberton  declared  that  I  put 
my  hair  in  papers,  and  the  stuffed  Sir  Henry  Millington  said  I  was 
a  thread-paper  myself.  One  blamed  my  riding — a  second  my 
dancing — a  third  wondered  how  any  woman  could  like  me,  and 
a  fourth  said  that  no  woman  ever  could. 

On  one  point,  however,  all — friends  and  foes — were  alike 
agreed  :  viz.,  that  I  was  a  consummate  puppy,  and  excessivelv 
well  satisfied  with  myself.  Perhaps,  they  were  not  much  mis- 
taken there.  Why  is  it,  by-the-by,  that  to  be  pleased  with  one's 
self  is  the  surest  way  of  offending  everybody  else  ?  If  any  one, 
male  or  female,  an  evident  admirer  of  his  or  her  own  perfections, 
enter  a  room,  how  perturbed,  restless,  and  unhappy  every  indi- 
vidual of  the  offender's  sex  instantly  becomes  :  for  them  not 
only  enjojTnent  but  tranquillity  is  over,  and  if  they  could  an- 
nihilate the  unconscious  victim  of  their  spleen,  I  fully  believe 
no  Christian  toleration  would  come  in  the  way  of  that  last  ex- 
treme of  animosity.  For  a  coxcomb  there  is  no  mercy — for  a 
coquette  no  pardon.  They  are,  as  it  were,  the  dissenters  of 
society — no  crime  is  too  bad  to  be  imputed  to  them  ;  they  do 
not  believe  the  religion  of  others — they  set  up  a  deity  of  their 
own  vanity — all  the  orthodox  vanities  of  others  are  offended. 
Then  comes  the  bigotry — the  stake — the  auto-da-fe  of  scandal. 
What,  alas  !    is  so   implacable    as  the    rage    of  vanity  t    What 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  73 

SO  restless  as  its  persecution  ?  Take  from  a  man  his  for- 
tune, his  house,  his  reputation,  but  flatter  his  vanity  in  each, 
and  he  will  forgive  you.  Heap  upon  him  benefits,  fill  him  with 
blessings  :  but  irritate  his  self-love,  and  you  have  made  the 
very  best  man  ungrateful.  He  will  sting  you  if  he  can  :  you 
can  not  blame  him ;  you  yourself  have  instilled  the  venom. 
This  is  one  reason  why  you  must  rarely  reckon  upon  gratitude 
in  conferring  an  obligation.  It  is  a  very  high  mind  to  which 
gratitude  is  not  a  painful  sensation.  If  you  wish  to  please,  you 
will  find  it  wiser  to  receive — solicit  even — favors,  than  accord 
them  :  for  the  vanity  of  the  obliger  is  always  flattered — that  of 
the  obligee  rarely. 

Well,  this  is  an  unforeseen  digression  ;  let  me  return  !  I  had 
mixed,  of  late,  very  little  with  the  English.  My  mother's  intro- 
ductions had  procured  me  the  entree  of  the  best  French  houses ; 
and  to  them,  therefore,  my  evenings  were  usually  devoted. 
Alas  !  that  was  a  happy  time  when  my  carriage  used  to  await 
me  at  the  door  of  the  Rocher  de  Cancale,  and  then  whirl  me  to 
a  succession  of  visits,  varying  in  their  degree  and  nature  as 
the  whim  prompted  :  now  to  the  brilliant  soirees  of  Madame  de 

,  or  to  the  appartemcrit  an  troishne  of   some  less  celebrated 

daughter  of  dissipation  and  ecarte ; — now  to  the  literary  conver- 
saziones of  the   Duchesse  D s,  or  the  Visconte  d' ,  and 

then  to  the  feverish  excitement  of  the  gambling-house.  Passing 
from  each  with  the  appetite  for  amusement  kept  alive  by 
variety  ;  finding  in  none  a  disappointment,  and  in  every  one  a 
welcome  ;  full  of  the  health  which  supports,  and  the  youth 
which  colors  all  excess  or  excitement,  I  drained,  with  an 
unsparing  lip,  whatever  enjoyment  that  enchanting  metropolis 
could  afford. 

I  have  hitherto  said  but  little  of  the  Duchesse  de  Perpignan  ; 
I  think  it  necessary  now  to  give  some  account  of  that  person- 
age. Ever  since  the  evening  I  had  met  her  at  the  ambassador's, 
I  paid  her  the  most  unceasing  attentions.  I  soon  discovered 
tliat  she  had  a  curious  sort  of  liaison  with  one  of  the  attaches — a 
short,  ill-made  gentleman,  with  high  shoulders  and  a  pale  face, 
who  wore  a  blue  coat  and  a  buff  waistcoat,  wrote  bad  verses, 
and  thought  himself  handsome.  All  Paris  said  she  was 
excessively  enamoured  of  this  youth.  As  for  me,  I  had  not 
known  her  four  days  before  I  discoverd  that  she  could  not  be 
excessively  enamoured  of  anything  but  an  oyster/^//  and  Lord 
Byron's  Corsair.  Her  mind  was  the  most  marvellous  imUange 
of  sentiment  and  its  opposite.  In  her  amours  she  was  Lucretia 
herself ;  in   her  epicurism  Apicius  would  have  yielded  to  her. 


74  PELHAM;  OR, 

She  was  pleased  with  sighs,  but  she  adored  suppers.  She 
would  leave  everything  for  her  lover,  except  her  dinner.  The 
attache  soor\.  quarrelled  with  her,  and  I  was  installed  into  the 
platonic  honors  of  his  office. 

At  first,  I  own  that  I  was  flattered  by  her  choice,  and  though 
she  was  terribly  exacting  of  my  petits  soins,  I  managed  to  keep 
up  her  affection,  and,  what  is  still  more  wonderful,  my  own,  for 
the  better  part  of  a  month.  What  then  cooled  me  was  the 
following  occurrence  : — 

I  was  in  her  boudoir  one  evening,  when  her  fenime  de  cham- 
bre  came  to  tell  us  that  the  Due  was  in  the  passage.  Not- 
withstanding the  innocence  of  our  attachment,  the  Duchesse 
was  in  a  violent  fright ;  a  small  door  was  at  the  left  of  the  ot- 
toman on  which  we  were  sitting.  "  Oh,  no,  no,  not  there  !  " 
cried  the  lady  ;  but  I,  who  saw  no  other  refuge,  entered  it  forth- 
with, and  before  she  could  ferret  me  out,  the  Due  was  in  the 
room. 

In  the  meanwhile,  I  amused  myself  by  examining  the  wonders 
of  the  new  world  into  which  I  had  so  abruptly  immerged ;  on  a 
small  table  before  me,  was  deposited  a  remarkably-constructed 
night-cap ;  I  examined  it  as  a  curiosity ;  on  each  side  was 
placed  une  petite  cotelette,  de  veau  cm,  sewed  on  with  green- 
colored  silk  (I  remember  even  the  smallest  minutiae  :)  a  beautiful 
golden  wig  (the  Duchesse  never  liked  me  to  play  with  her  hair) 
was  on  a  block  close  by,  and  on  another  table  was  a  set  of 
teeth,  d'u7ie  blancheur  ebouissante.  In  this  manufactory  of  a 
beauty  I  remained  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  at  the  end  of 
that  time,  the  abigail  (the  Duchess  had  the  grace  to  disap- 
pear released  me,  and  I  flew  down  stairs  like  a  spirit  from  pur- 
gatory. 

From  that  moment  the  Duchesse  honored  me  with  her  most 
deadly  abhorrence.  Equally  silly  and  wicked,  her  schemes  of 
revenge  were  as  ludicrous  in  their  execution  as  remorseless  in 
their  design  :  at  one  time  I  narrowly  escaped  poison  in  a  cup  of 
coffee — at  another,  she  endeavored  to  stab  me  to  the  heart  with 
a  paper-cutter. 

Notwithstanding  my  preservation  from  these  attacks,  my  fair 
enemy  had  resolved  on  my  destruction,  and  another  means  of 
attempting  it  still  remained,  which  the  reader  will  yet  have  the 
pleasure  of  learning, 

Mr.  Thornton  had  called  upon  me  twice,  and  twice  I  had 
returned  the  visit,  but  neither  of  us  had  been  at  home  to  benefit 
by  these  reciprocities  of  politeness.  His  acquaintance  with  my 
mysterious   hero   of   the  gambling-house    and  the  Jardin    des 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GEA'TLEMA.V.  75 

Plantes,  and  the  keen  interest  I  took,  in  spite  of  myself,  in  that 
unaccountable  person,  whom  I  was  persuaded  I  had  seen 
before  in  some  very  different  scene,  and  under  very  different 
circumstances,  made  me  desirous  to  improve  an  acquaintance, 
which,  from  Vincent's  detail,  I  should  otherwise  have  been 
anxious  to  avoid.  I  therefore  resolved  to  make  another 
attempt  to  find  him  at  home  ;  and  my  headache  being  some- 
what better,  I  took  my  way  to  his  apartments  in  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain. 

I  love  that  quartier ! — If  ever  I  go  to  Paris  again  I  shall 
reside  there.  It  is  a  different  world  from  the  streets  usually 
known  to,  and  tenanted  by  the  English — thei-e^  indeed,  you 
are  among  the  French,  the  fossilized  remains  of  the  old  regime 
— the  very  houses  have  an  air  of  desolate,  yet  venerable 
grandeur — you  never  pass  by  the  white  and  modern  mansion  of 
a  nouveau  rkhe ;  all,  even  to  the  ruggedness  of  the  pave, 
breathes  a  haughty  disdain  of  innovation — you  cross  one  of  the 
numerous  bridges,  and  you  enter  into  another  time — you  are  in- 
haling the  atmosphere  of  a  past  century  ;  no  flaunting  boutique, 
French  in  its  trumpery,  English  in  its  prices,  stares  you  in  the 
face  ;  no  stiff  coats  and  unnatural  gaits  are  seen  anglicizing  up 
the  melancholy  streets.  Vast  hotels,  with  their  gloomy  f  rontals, 
and  magnificent  contempt  of  comfort ;  shops,  such  as  shops 
might  have  been  in  the  aristocratic  days  of  Louis  Quatorze, 
ere  British  contamination  made  them  insolent  and  dear ;  public 
edifices,  still  eloquent  of  the  superb  charities  of  le  grand  mon- 
arque — carriages  with  their  huge  bodies  and  ample  decorations  ; 
horses,  with  their  Norman  dimensions  and  unlocked  honors ; 
men,  on  whose  more  high  though  not  less  courteous  demeanour, 
the  Revolution  seems  to  have  wrought  no  democratic  plebeianism 
— all  strike  on  the  mind  with  a  vague  and  nameless  impression 
of  antiquity ;  a  something  solemn  even  in  gayety,  and  faded  in 
pomp,  appears  to  linger  over  all  you  behold  ;  there  are  the  Great 
French  people  unadulterated  by  change,  unsullied  with  the 
commerce  of  the  vagrant  and  various  tribes  that  throng  their 
mighty  mart  of  enjoyments. 

The  strangers  who  fill  the  quartiers  on  this  side  the  Seine 
pass  not  there  ;  between  them  and  the  Faubourg  there  is  a  gulf ; 
the  very  skies  seem  different — your  own  feelings,  thoughts — 
nature  itself — alter,  when  you  have  passed  that  Styx  which 
divides  the  wanderers  from  the  inhabitants  ;  your  spirits  are  not 
so  much  damped,  as  tinged,  refined,  ennobled  by  a  certain  inex- 
pressible awe — you  are  girt  with  the  statcliness  of  eld,  and  you 
tread   the   gloomy  streets   with   the   dignity   of    a   man,  who  is 


-,G  PELHAM;  OR, 

recalling  the  splendors  of  an  ancient  court  where  he  once  did 
homage.* 

I  arrived  at  Thornton's  chambers  in  the  Rue  St.  Dominique. 
^^  Monsieur,  est-il  chez  luiV  said  I  to  the  ancient  porteress,  who 
was  reading  one  of  Crebillion's  novels. 

"6>«/  Monsieur,  au  giiatricme,''^  was  the  answer.  I  turned  to 
the  dark  and  unclean  stair-case,  and,  after  incredible  exertion 
and  fatigue,  arrived,  at  last,  at  the  elevated  abode  of  Mr. 
Thornton, 

'■'■  Entrez,'''  cried  a  voice,  in  answer  to  m}-  rap.  I  obeyed  the 
signal,  and  found  myself  in  a  room  of  tolerable  dimensions  and 
multiplied  utilities.  A  decayed  silk  curtain  of  a  dingy  blue, 
drawn  across  a  recess,  separated  the  chambre  a  couchcr  from  the 
salon.  It  was  at  present  only  half  drawn,  and  did  not,  therefore, 
conceal  the  mysteries  of  the  den  within  ;  the  bed  was  still 
unmade,  and  apparently  of  no  very  inviting  cleanliness  ;  a  red 
handkerchief,  that  served  as  a  night-cap,  hung  pendent  from 
the  foot  of  the  bed  ;  at  a  little  distance  from  it,  more  towards 
the  pillow,  were  a  shawl,  a  parasol,  and  an  old  slipper.  On  a 
table,  which  stood  between  the  two  dull,  filmy  windows,  were 
placed  a  cracked  bowl,  still  reeking  with  the  lees  of  gin-punch, 
two  bottles  half  full,  a  mouldy  cheese,  and  a  salad  dish  :  on  the 
ground  beneath  the  table  lay  two  huge  books,  and  a  woman's 
bonnet. 

Thornton  himself  sat  by  a  small  consumptive  fire,  in  an  easy 
chair  ;  another  table,  still  spread  with  the  appliances  of  break- 
fast, viz.,  a  coffee-pot,  a  milk-jug,  two  cups,  a  broken  loaf,  and 
an  empty  dish,  mingled  with  a  pack  of  cards,  one  die,  and  an 
open  book  de  mauvais  gofit,  stood  immediately  before  him. 

Every  thing  around  bore  some  testimony  of  low  debauchery  ; 
and  the  man  himself,  with  his  flushed  and  sensual  countenance, 
his  unwashed  hands,  and  the  slovenly  rakishness  of  his  whole 
appearance,  made  no  unfitting  representation  of  the  Genus  loci. 

All  that  I  have  described,  together  with  a  flitting  shadow  of 
feminine  appearance,  escaping  through  another  door,  my  quick 
eye  discovered  in  the  same  instant  that  I  made  my  salutation. 

Thornton  rose,  with  an  air  half-careless  and  half-abashed, 
and  expressed,  in  more  appropriate  terms  than  his  appearance 
warranted,  his  pleasurable  surprise  at  seeing  me  at  last.  There 
was,  however,  a  singularity  in  his  conversation  which  gave  it  an 
air  both  of  shrewdness  and  vulgarity.  This  was,  as  may  before 
have  been  noted,  a  profuse  intermixture  of  proverbs,  some  stale, 

*  It  was  in  1827  that  this  was  first  published  :  the  glory  (by  this  time)  has  probably 
Jeft  the  Faubourc- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  77 

some  new,  some  sensible  enough,  and  all  savoring  of  a  vocabu. 
lary  carefully  eschewed  by  every  man  of  ordinary  refinement  in 
conversation. 

'*  I  have  but  a  small  tenement,"  said  he,  smiling  ;  "  but, 
thank  Heaven,  at  Paris  a  man  is  not  made  by  his  lodgings. 
Small  house  small  care.  Fe.v  gar^ons  have  indeed  a  more 
sumptuous  apartment  than  myself." 

"  True,"  said  I  ;  "  and  if  I  may  judge  by  the  bottles  on  the 
opposite  table,  and  the  bonnet  beneath  it,  you  find  that  no 
abode  is  too  humble  or  too  exalted  for  the  solace  of  the  senses." 

"  'Fore  Gad,  you  are  in  the  right,  Mr.  Pelham,"  replied 
Thornton,  with  a  loud,  coarse,  chuckling  laugh,  which,  more 
than  a  year's  conversation  could  have  done,  let  me  into  the 
secrets  of  his  character,  "  I  care  not  a  rush  for  the  decorations 
of  the  table,  so  that  the  cheer  be  good  ;  nor  for  the  gewgaws  of 
tte  head-dress,  so  long  as  the  face  is  pretty — '  the  taste  of  the 
kitchen  is  better  than  the  smell.'     Do  you  go  much  to  Madame 

B 's  in  the  Rue  Gretry — eh,  Mr.  Pelham  ? — ah,  I'll  be  bound 

you  do." 

"  No,"  said  I,  with  a  loud  laugh,  but  internal  shiver ;  "  but 
you  know  where  to  find  le  bon  vin  et  les  joliesfilles.  As  for  me, 
I  am  still  a  stranger  in  Paris,  and  amuse  myself  but  very  indif- 
ferently." 

Thornton's  face  brightened.      "  I   tell    you  what,  my  good 

fellow 1   beg  pardon — I  mean  Mr.    Pelham — I    can   show 

you  the  best  spot  in  the  world,  if  you  can  only  spare  me  a  little 
of  your  time — this  very  evening,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  I  fear,"  said  I,  "  I  am  engaged  all  the  present  week ;  but  I 
long  for  nothing  more  than  to  cultivate  an  acquaintance,  seem- 
ingly so  exactly  to  my  own  tasted 

Thornton's  grey  eyes  twinkled.  "  Will  you  breakfast  with  me 
on  Saturday  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  shall  be  too  happy,"  I  replied, 

There  was  now  a  short  pause.  I  took  advantage  of  it.  "  I 
think,"  said  I,  "I  have  seen  you  once  or  twice  with  a  tall,  hand- 
some man,  in  a  loose  great-coat  of  very  singular  color.  Pray,  if 
not  impertinent,  who  is  he  .-*  I  am  sure  I  have  seen  him  before 
in  England." 

I  looked  full  upon  Thornton  as  I  said  this  ;  he  changed  color 
and  answered  my  gaze  with  a  quick  glance  from  his  small,  glit- 
tering eye,  before  he  replied,  "  I  scarcely  know  who  you  mean, 
my  acquaintance  is  so  large  and  miscellaneous  at  Paris.  It 
might  have  been  Johnson,  or  Smith,  or  Howard,  or  anybody,  in 
short." 


78  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  It  is  a  man  nearly  six  feet  liigh,"  said  I,  "  thin,  and  remark- 
ably well  made,  of  a  pale  complexion,  light  eyes,  and  veiy  black 
hair,  mustachios  and  whiskers.  I  saw  him  with  you  once  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  once  in  a  hell  in  the  Palais  Royal. 
Surely,  now  you  will  recollect  who  he  is  .''  " 

Thornton  was  evidently  disconcerted.  "  Oh!"  said  he,  after 
a  short  pause,  and  another  of  his  peculiarly  quick,  sly  glances. — 
"  Oh,  that  man  ;  I  have  known  him  a  very  short  time.  What  is 
his  name  ? — let  me  see  !  "  and  Mr.  Thornton  affected  to  look 
down  in  a  complete  reverie  of  dim  remembrances. 

I  saw,  however,  that,  from  time  to  time,  his  eye  glanced  up 
to  me,  with  a  restless,  inquisitive  expression,  and  as  instantly 
retired. 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  carelessly,  "  I  think  I  know  who  he  is  !  " 

"Who  ?  "  cried  Thornton,  eagerly,  and  utterly  off  his  guard. 

"And  yet,"  I  pursued,  without  noticing  the  interruption,  "it 
scarcely  can  be — the  color  of  the  hair  is  so  very  different." 

Thornton  again  appeared  to  relapse  into  his  recollections. 

"  War — Warbur — ah,  I  have  it  now !  "  cried  he,  "  Warbur- 
ton — that's  it — that's  the  name — is  it  the  one  you  supposed,  Mr. 
Pelham  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  apparently  perfectly  satisfied.  "  I  was  quite 
mistaken.  Good  morning,  I  did  not  think  it  was  so  late.  On 
Saturday,  then,  Mr.  Thornton — au  plaisir!''^ 

"  A  cunning  dog !  "  said  I  to  myself,  as  I  left  the  apartments. 
"  However,  on  peut  etre  trop  Jin.     I  shall  have  him  yet." 

The  surest  way  to  make  a  dupe,  is  to  let  your  victim  suppose 
you  are  his. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Voila  de  I'erudition.* — Les  Fevimes  Saveiites. 

I  FOUND,  on  my  return,  covered  with  blood,  and  foaming  with 
passion,  my  inestimable  valet — Bedos  ! 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Matter ! "  repeated  Bedos,  in  a  tone  almost  inarticulate 
with  rage  ;  and  then,  rejoicing  at  the  opportunity  of  unbosoming 
his  wrath,  he  poured  out  a  vast  volley  of  ivrognes  and  carognes, 
against  our  dame  du  chateau,  of  monkey  reminiscence.  With 
great  difficulty,  I   gathered  at  last  from  his  vituperations,  that 

*  There's  erudition  for  vou. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN.  79 

the  enraged  landlady,  determined  to  wreak  her  vengeance 
on  some  one,  had  sent  for  him  into  her  appartement,  accosted 
him  with  a  smile,  bade  him  sit  down,  regaled  him  with  cold  vol- 
au-ve?it,  and  a  glass  of  Cura^oa,  and,  while  he  was  felicitating 
himself  on  his  good  fortune,  slipped  out  of  the  room  ;  pres- 
ently, three  tall  fellows  entered  with  sticks. 

"  We'll  teach  you,"  said  the  biggest  of  them — "  we'll  teach 
you  to  lock  up  ladies  for  the  indulgence  of  your  vulgar  amuse- 
ment ;  "  and,  without  one  other  word,  they  fell  upon  Bedos  with 
incredible  zeal  and  vigor.  The  valiant  valet  defended  himself, 
tooth  and  nail,  for  some  time,  for  which  he  only  got  the  more 
soundly  belabored.  In  the  meanwhile  the  landlady  entered, 
and,  with  the  same  gentle  smile  as  before,  begged  him  to  make 
no  ceremony,  to  proceed  with  his  present  amusement,  and  when 
he  was  tired  with  the  exercise,  hoped  he  would  refresh  himself 
with  another  glass  of  Curagoa. 

"  It  was  this,"  said  Bedos,  with  a  whimper,  "  which  hurt  me 
the  most,  to  think  she  should  serve  me  so  cruelly,  after  I  had 
eaten  so  plentifully  of  the  vol-au-vent ;  envy  and  injustice  I  can 
bear,  but  treachery  stabs  me  in  the  heart." 

When  these  threshers  of  men  were  tired,  the  lady  satisfied, 
and  Bedos  half  dead,  they  suffered  the  unhappy  valet  to  with- 
draw ;  the  mistress  of  the  hotel  give  him  a  note,  which  she 
desired,  with  great  civility,  that  he  would  transmit  to  me  on  my 
return.  This,  I  found,  inclosed  my  bill,  and  informed  me  that, 
my  month  being  out  on  the  morrow,  she  had  promised  my 
rooms  to  a  particular  friend,  and  begged  I  would,  therefore, 
have  the  bontc  to  choose  another  apartment. 

"  Carry  my  luggage  forthwith,"  said  I,  "  to  the  hotel  de 
Mirabeau  :  "  and  that  very  evening  I  changed  my  abode. 

I  was  engaged  that  day  to   a  literary  dinner  at  the   Marquis 

d'Al ;  and  as  I  knew  I  should  meet  Vincent,  I  felt  some 

pleasure  in  repairing  to  my  entertainer's  hotel.  They  were  just 
going  to  dinner  as  I  entered,  A  good  many  English  were  of 
the   party.     The  good-natured,  in  all   the  senses  of  the  word, 

Lady ,  who  always  aflected  to  pet  me,  cried  aloud,  "  Pelham, 

man  Jolt  petit  mignon^i  have  not  seen  you  for  an  age — do  give 
me  your  arm." 

Madame  d'Anville  was  just  before  me,  and,  as  I  looked  at 
her,  I  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  ;  my  heart  smote  me  for 
my    late    inattention,  and    going   up   to   her,  I   only  nodded   to 

Lady ,  and  said,  in  reply  to  her  invitation,  "  Non,  pcrjide,  it 

is  my  turn  to  be  cruel  }i07c>.  Remember  your  flirtation  with 
Mr.  Howard  de  Howard." 


So  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Lady ,  taking  Lord  Vincent's  arm,  "  your 

jealousy  does  indeed  rest  upon  '  a  trijle  light  as  air.''  " 

"  Do  you  forgive  me  ?  "  whispered  I  to  Madame  d'Anville,  as 
I  handed  her  to  the  sa//e  a  manger. 

"  Does  not  love  forgive  everything?  "  was  her  answer. 

"  At  least,"  thought  I,  "  it  never  talks  in  those  pretty  phrases  !  " 

The  conversation  soon  turned  upon  books.  As  for  me,  I 
rarely  at  that  time  took  a  share  in  those  discussions ;  indeed, 
I  have  long  laid  it  down  as  a  rule,  that  when  your  fame,  or 
your  notoriety,  is  once  established,  you  never  gain  by  talking  to 
more  than  one  person  at  a  time.  If  you  don't  shine,  you  are  a 
fool — if  you  do,  you  are  a  bore.  You  must  become  either  ridic- 
ulous or  unpopular — either  hurt  your  own  self-love  by  stupidity, 
or  that  of  others  by  wit.  I  therefore  sat  in  silence,  looking  ex- 
ceedingly edified,  and  now  and  then  muttering  "  good  !  "  "  true  !  " 
Thank  heaven,  however,  the  suspension  of  one  faculty  only 
increases  the  vivacity  of  the  others  ;  my  eyes  and  ears  always 
watch  like  sentinels  over  the  repose  of  my  lips.  Careless  and 
indifferent  as  I  seem  to  all  things,  nothing  ever  escapes  me  :  I 
have  two  peculiarities  which  serve  me  it  may  be,  instead  of  tal- 
ent ;  /  observe^  and  I  retnember. 

"  You  have  seen  Jouy's  '  Hermite  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin  1 '  " 
said  our  host  to  Lord  Vincent. 

"  I  have,  and  think  meanly  of  it.  There  is  perpetual  aim  at 
something  pointed,  which  as  perpetually  merges  into  something 
dull.  He  is  like  a  bad  swimmer,  strikes  out  with  great  force, 
makes  a  confounded  splash,  and  never  gets  a  yard  further  for  it. 

It  is  a  great  effort  not  to  sink.      Indeed,  Monsieur  d'A , 

your  literature  is  at  a  very  reduced  ebb ; — bombastic  in  the 
drama — shallow  in  philosophy — mawkish  in  poetry,  your  writers 
in  the  present  day  seem  to  think,  with  Boileau — 

'  Souvent  de  tons  nos  maux  la  raison  est  le  pire.'  "  * 

"  Surely,"  cried  Madame  d'Anville,  "  you  will  allow  De  la 
Martine's  poetry  to  be  beautiful .''  " 

"  I  allow  it,"  said  he,  "  to  be  among  the  best  you  have  ;  and 
I  know  very  few  lines  in  your  language  equal  to  the  two  first 
stanzas  in  his  '  Meditation  on  Napoleon,'  or  to  those  exquisite 
verses  called 'Z^  A?^;' but  ^^?^  will  allow  also,  that  he  wants 
originality  and  nerve.  His  thoughts  are  pathetic,  but  not  deep ; 
he  whines,  but  sheds  no  tears.     He    has,  in  his  imitation  of 

*  Often  of  all  our  ills  the  worst  is  reason. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  Si 

Lord  Byron,  reversed  the  great  miracle;  instead  of  turning 
water  into  wine,  he  has  turned  wine  into  water.  Besides,  he  is 
so  unpardonably  obscure.  He  thinks,  with  Bacchus — (you  re- 
member, D'A ,  the  line  in  Euripides,  which  I  will  «<?/  quote), 

that  '  there  is  something  august  in  the  shades ;  '  but  he  has  ap- 
plied this  thought  wrongly — in  his  obscurity  there  is  nothing 
sublime — it  is  the  back-ground  of  a  Dutch  picture.  It  is  only 
a  red  herring,  or  an  old  hat,  which  he  has  invested  with  such 
pomposity  of  shadow  and  darkness." 

"But  his  verses  are  so  smooth,"  said  Lady . 

"  Ah  !  "  answered  Vincent. 

'"Quand  la  rime  cnfin  se  trouve  au  bout  des  vers, 
Qu'  impoite  que  le  reste  y  soit  mis  de  travers  .?'  "* 

"  Helas  !  "  said  the  Viscount  d'A — ,  an  author  of  no  small 
celebrity  himself ;  "  I  agree  with  you — we  shall  never  again  see 
a  Voltaire  or  a  Rousseau." 

"  There  is  but  little  justice  in  those  complaints,  often  as  they 
are  made,"  replied  Vincent.  "  You  may  not,  it  is  true,  see  a 
Voltaire  or  a  Rousseau,  but  you  will  see  their  equals.  Genius 
can  never  be  exhausted  by  one  individual.  In  our  country,  the 
poets  after  Chaucer  in  the  fifteenth  century  complained  of  the 
decay  of  their  art — they  did  not  anticipate  Shakspeare.  In 
Hayley's  time,  who  ever  dreamt  of  the  ascension  of  Byron  .'' 
Yet  Shakspeare  and  Byron  came  like  the  bridegroom  '  in  the 
dead  of  night;'  and  you  have  the  same  probability  of  produc- 
ing— not,  indeed,  another  Rousseau,  but  a  writer  to  do  equal 
honor  to  your  literature." 

"I  think,"  said  Lady ,  "that  Rousseau's  'Julie'  is  over- 
rated. I  had  heard  so  much  of  '  La  Nouvelle  Heloise  '  when 
I  was  a  girl,  and  been  so  often  told  that  it  was  destruction  to 
read  it  that  I  bought  the  book  the  very  day  after  I  was  mar- 
ried,    I  own  to  you  that  I  could  not  get  through  it." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  it,"  answered  Vincent ;  "  but  Rousseau 
is  not  the  less  a  genius  for  all  that.  There  is  no  plot  in  his  novel 
to  bear  out  the  style,  and  he  himself  is  right  when  he  says,  'this 
book  will  suit  few  leaders.'  One  letter  would  delight  every 
one — four  volumes  of  them  are  a  surfeit — it  is  the  toiijours  pcr- 
drix.  But  the  chief  beauty  of  that  wonderful  conception  of  an 
impassioned  and  meditative  mind  is  to  be  found  in  the  inimita- 
ble manner  in  whicii  the  thoughts  are  embodied,  and  in  the  ten- 

*  No  matter  what  the  stuff,  if  good  the  rhyme  — 
The  rubble  stands  cemented  with  the  lime.— Parai'iikase. 


82  PELHAM;  OR, 

derness,  the  truth,  the  profundity  of  the  thoughts  themselves. 
When  Lord  Edouard  says,  '  c'est  le  cheniin  des  passions  qui  7na 
conduit  h  la  philosophic,^  *  he  inculcates,  in  one  simple  phrase,  a 
profound  and  unanswerable  truth.  It  is  in  these  remarks  that 
nature  is  chiefly  found  in  the  writings  of  Rousseau,  Too  much 
engrossed  in  himself  to  be  deeply  skilled  in  the  characters  of 
others,  that  very  self-study  had  yet  given  him  a  knowledge  of  the 
more  hidden  recesses  of  the  heart.  He  could  perceive  at  once 
the  motive  and  the  cause  of  actions,  but  he  wanted  the  patience 
to  trace  the  elaborate  and  winding  progress  of  their  effects. 
He  saw  the  passions  in  their  home,  but  he  could  not  follow 
them  abroad.  He  knew  mankiiid  in  the  general,  but  not  men 
in  the  detail.  Thus,  when  he  makes  an  aphorism,  or  reflection, 
it  comes  home  at  once  to  you  as  true  ;  but  when  he  would  anal- 
yze that  reflection — when  he  argues,  reasons,  and  attempts  to 
prove,  you  reject  him  as  unnatural,  or  you  refute  him  as  false. 
It  is  then  that  he  partakes  of  that  inanie  commune  which  he  im- 
putes to  other  philosophers,  ^  de  ?iier  ce  qui  est,  et  d'expliquer  ce  qui 
n' est  pas:  "  f 

There  was  a  short  pause.  "I  think,"  said  Madame  d'Anville 
"  that  it  is  in  those  reflections  which  you  admire  so  much  in 
Rousseau,  that  our  authors  in  general  excel." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Vincent,  "  and  for  this  reason — with 
you,  meri  of  letters  are  nearly  always  men  of  the  world.  Hence 
their  quick  perceptions  are  devoted  to  human  beings  as  well  as 
to  bocks.  They  make  observations  acutely,  and  embody  them 
with  grace  ;  but  it  is  worth  remarking,  that  the  same  cause  which 
produced  the  aphorism,  frequently  prevents  its  being  profound. 
These  literary  gens  du  mode  have  the  tact  to  observe,  but  not 
the  patience,  perhaps  not  the  time,  to  investigate.  They  make 
the  maxim,  but  they  never  explain  to  you  the  train  of  reasoning 
which  led  to  it.  Hence  they  are  more  brilliant  than  true.  An 
English  writer  will  seldom  dare  to  make  a  maxim,  involving, 
perhaps,  in  two  lines,  one  of  the  most  important  of  moral  prob- 
lems, without  bringing  pages  to  support  his  dictum.  A  French 
essayist  leaves  it  wholly  to  itself.  He  tells  you  neither  how  he 
came  by  his  reasons,  nor  their  conclusion  ;  '  leplus  fou  souvent 
est  le  plus  satis/ait:  X  Consequently,  if  less  tedious  than  the 
English,  your  reasoners  are  more  dangerous,  and  ought  rather 
to  be  considered  as  models  of  terseness  than  of  reflection.  A 
man  might  learn  to  think  sooner  from  your  writers,  but  he  will 

*  'It  is  the  path  of  the  passions  which  has  conducted  me  to  philosophy. 
t  To  deny  that  which  is,  and  explain  that  which  is  not. 
X  He  who  has  the  least  sense  is  the  most  satisfied. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  ^z 

learn  to  thmk  justly  sooner  from  ours.  Many  observations  of 
La  Bruyere  and  Rochefoucault — the  latter  especially — have 
obtained  credit  for  truth  solely  from  their  point.  They  possess 
exactly  the  same  merit  as  the  very  sensible — permit  me  to  add 
— very  French  line  in  Corneille  : — 

'  Ma  plus  douce  esperance  est  de  perdre  I'espoir. '  "  * 

The  marquis  took  advantage  of  the  silence  which  followed 
Vincent's  criticism,  to  rise  from  table.  We  all  (except  Vincent, 
who  took  leave)  adjourned  to  the  salon.  "  Qui  est  cet  homme 
laV  said  one,  "" comme  il  est  e'pris  de  lui-meme !"  "How  silly 
he  is,"  cried  another — "  How  ugly,'''  said  a  third.  "  What  a 
taste  in  literature — such  a  talker — such  shallowness,  and  such 
assurance — not  worth  the  answering — could  not  slip  in  a  word 
— disagreeable,  revolting,  awkward,  slovenly,"  were  the  most 
complimentary  opinions  bestowed  upon  the  unfortunate  Vincent. 
The  old  railed  at  his  mauvais  gout,  and  the  young  at  his 
viauvais  cceur,  for  the  former  always  attribute  whatever  does 
not  correspond  with  their  sentiments,  to  a  perversion  of  taste  ; 
and  the  latter,  whatever  does  not  come  up  to  their  enthusiasm, 
to  a  depravity  of  heart. 

As  for  me,  I  went  home,  enriched  with  two  new  observations  ; 
first,  that  one  may  not  speak  of  anything  relative  to  a  foreign 
country,  as  one  would  if  one  were  a  native.  National  censures 
become  particular  affronts.  Secondly,  that  those  who  know 
mankind  in  theory,  seldom  know  it  in  practice  ;  the  very  wisdom 
that  conceives  a  rule,  is  accompanied  with  the  abstraction,  or 
the  vanity,  which  destroys  it.  I  mean,  that  the  philosopher  of 
the  cabinet  is  often  too  diffident  to  put  into  action  his  observa- 
tions, or  too  eager  for  display  to  conceal  their  design.  Lord 
Vincent  values  himself  upon  his  science  du  tnonde.  He  has 
read  much  upon  men,  he  has  reflected  more  ;  he  lays  down 
aphorisms  to  govern  or  to  please  them.  He  goes  into  society  ; 
he  is  cheated  by  the  one  half,  and  the  other  half  he  offends. 
The  sage  in  the  cabinet  is  but  a  fool  in  the  salon  ;  and  the 
most  consummate  men  of  the  world  are  those  who  have  consid- 
ered the  least  on  it. 

*  My  sweetest  hoping  is  to  forfeit  hope. 


S4  PELHAM;  OR, 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

Falstaff. — What  money  is  in  my  purse  ? 

Pas[e. — Seven  groats  and  two-pence. — Second  Part  of  Henry  IV. 
En  iterum  Crispiniis  ! 

The  next  day  a  note  was  brought  me  which  had  been  sent  to 
to  my  former  lodgings  in  the  Hotel  de  Paris :  it  was  from 
Thornton. 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  (it  began) 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  particular  business  will  prevent  me  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  my  rooms  on  Saturday.  I  hope  to  be 
more  fortunate  some  other  day.  I  should  be  glad  to  introduce 
you,  the  first  opportunity,  to  my  friends  in  the  Rue  Gretry,  for  I 
like  obliging  my  countrymen.  I  am  sure,  if  you  were  to  go 
there,  you  would  cut  and  come  again — one  shoulder  of  mut- 
ton drives  down  another. 

"  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  repeated  excuses,  and  remain, 

"  Dear  Sir, 
"  Your  very  obedient  servant, 

"  Thomas  Thornton. 
"  Rue  St.  Dominique, 
Friday  Morning. " 

This  letter  produced  in  me  many  and  manifold  cogitations. 
What  could  possibly  have  induced  Mr.  Tom  Thornton,  rogue 
as  he  was,  to  postpone  thus  of  his  own  accord,  the  plucking  of 
a  pigeon,  which  he  had  such  good  reason  to  believe  he  had  en- 
trapped ?  There  was  evidently  no  longer  the  same  avidity  to 
cultivate  my  acquaintance  as  before  ;  in  putting  off  our  appoint- 
ment with  so  little  ceremony,  he  did  not  even  fix  a  day  for  an- 
other meeting.  What  had  altered  his  original  designs  towards 
me  ?  for  if  Vincent's  account  were  true,  it  was  natural  to  suppose 
that  he  wished  to  profit  by  any  acquaintance  he  might  form  with 
me,  and  therefore  such  an  acquaintance  his  own  interests  would 
induce  him  to  continue  and  confirm.  Either,  then,  he  no  longer 
had  the  same  necessity  for  a  dupe,  or  he  no  longer  imagined  I 
should  become  one.  Yet  neither  of  these  suppositions  was  prob- 
able.    It  was  not   likely  that  he  should  grow  suddenly  honest, 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  85 

or  suddenly  rich :  nor  had  I,  on  the  other  hand,  given  him  any 
reason  to  suppose  I  was  a  jot  more  wary  than  any  other  indivicl- 
ual  he  might  have  imposed  upon.  On  the  contrary,  I  had  ap- 
peared to  seek  his  acquaintance  with  an  eagerness  which  said 
but  httle  for  my  knowledge  of  the  world.  The  more  I  reflected, 
the  more  I  should  have  been  puzzled,  had  I  not  connected  his 
present  backwardness  with  his  acquaintance  with  the  stranger, 
whom  he  termed  Warburton.  It  is  true,  that  I  had  no  reason 
to  suppose  so  :  it  was  a  conjecture  wholly  unsupported,  and,  in- 
deed, against  my  better  sense  ;  yet,  from  some  unanalyzed  asso- 
ciations, I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the  supposition. 

"  I  will  soon  see,"  thought  I ;  and,  wrapping  myself  in  my 
cloak,  for  the  day  was  bitterly  cold,  I  bent  my  way  to  Thornton's 
lodgings.  I  could  not  explain  to  myself  the  deep  interest  I  took 
in  whatever  was  connected  with  (the  so-called)  Warburton,  or 
whatever  promised  to  discover  more  clearly  any  particulars  re- 
specting him.  His  behavior  in  the  gambling-house ;  his  conver- 
sation with  the  woman  in  ihejardift  des  Plantes  ;  and  the  singu- 
lar circumstance,  that  a  man  of  so  very  aristocratic  an  appear- 
ance should  be  connected  with  Thornton,  and  only  seen  in  such 
low  scenes,  and  with  such  low  society,  would  not  have  been  suffi- 
cient so  strongly  to  occupy  my  mind,  had  it  not  been  for  certain 
dim  recollections,  and  undefinable  associations,  that  his  appear- 
ance when  present,  and  myithoughts  of  him  when  absent,  perpet- 
ually recalled. 

As,  engrossed  with  meditations  of  this  nature,  I  was  passing 
over  the  Font  JVeiif,  I  perceived  the  man  whom  Warburton  had 
so  earnestly  watched  in  the  gambling-house,  and  whom  my  con- 
jectures identified  with  the  "  Tyrrell,"  who  had  formed  the 
subject  of  conversation  in  the  Jardin  dcs  Plantes,  pass  slowly 
before  me.  There  was  an  appearance  of  great  exhaustion  in 
his  swarthy  and  strongly-marked  countenance.  He  walked 
carelessly  on,  neither  looking  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  with  that 
air  of  thought  and  abstraction  common  to  all  men  in  the  habit 
of  indulging  any  engrossing  and  exciting  passion. 

We  were  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  Seine,  when  I  perceived 
the  woman  of  i\\Q  Jardin  des  Plantes  approach.  Tyrrell  (for  that, 
I  afterwards  discovered,  was  really  his  name)  started  as  she 
came  near,  and  asked  her  in  a  tone  of  some  asperity,  where  she 
had  been  ?  As  I  was  but  a  few  paces  behind,  I  had  a  clear, 
full  view  of  the  woman's  countenance.  She  was  about  twentv- 
eight  or  thirty  years  of  age.  Her  features  were  decidedly  hand- 
some, thougli  somewhat  too  sharp  and  aquiline.  Her  eyes  were 
ligiit  and  rather  sunken  ;  and  her  complexion  bespoke  some- 


86  PELHAM;  OR, 

what  of  the  paleness  and  languor  of  ill-health.  On  the  whole, 
the  expression  of  her  face,  though  decided,  was  not  unpleasing, 
and  when  she  returned  Tyrrell's  rather  rude  salutation,  it  was 
with  a  smile,  which  made  her,  for  the  moment,  absolutely  beau- 
tiful. 

"  Where  have  I  been  to  ?  "  she  said,  in  answer  to  his  interrog^ 
atory ;  "  Why,  I  went  to  look  at  the  New  Church  which  they 
told  me  was  so  superber 

"  Methinks,"  replied  the  man,  "  that  ours  are  not  precisely 
the  circumstances  in  which  such  spectacles  are  amusing." 

"  Nay,  Tyrrell,"  said  the  woman,  as,  taking  his  arm,  they 
walked  on  together  a  few  paces  before  me,  "  nay,  we  are  quite 
rich  now  to  what  we  have  been  ;  and,  if  you  do  play  again,  our 
two  hundred  pounds  may  swell  into  a  fortune.  Your  losses 
have  brought  you  skill,  and  you  may  now  turn  them  into  actual 
advantages." 

Tyrrell  did  not  reply  exactly  to  these  remarks,  but  appeared 
as  if  debating  with  himself.  "Two  hundred  pounds — twenty 
already  gone  ! — in  a  few  months,  all  will  have  melted  away. 
WHiat  is  it  then  now  but  a  respite  from  starvation  .? — but  with 
luck  it  may  become  a  competence." 

"  And  why  not  have  luck  ?  many  a  fortune  has  been  made 
with  a  worse  beginning,"  said  the  woman. 

"  True,  Margaret,"  pursued  the  gambler,  "  and  even  without 
luck,  our  fate  can  only  commence  a  month  or  two  sooner — bet- 
ter a  short  doom  than  a  lingering  torture." 

"  What  think  you  of  trying  some  new  game  where  you  have 
more  experience,  or  where  the  chances  are  greater  than  in  that 
of  rouge  et  noir  ?  "  asked  the  woman.  "  Could  you  not  make 
something  out  of  that  tall,  handsome  man,  who  Thornton  says, 
is  so  rich  .-•  " 

"  Ah,  if  one  could  !  "  sighed  Tyrrell,  wistfully.  "  Thornton 
tells  me,  that  he  has  won  thousands  from  him,  and  that  they 
are  mere  drops  in  his  income.  Thornton  is  a  good,  easy,  care- 
less fellow,  and  might  let  me  into  a  share  of  the  booty;  but 
then,  in  w'hat  games  can  I  engage  him  ?  " 

Here  I  passed  this  well-suited  pair,  and  lost  the  remainder 
of  their  conversation.  "Well,"  thought  I,  "if  this  precious 
personage  does  starve  at  last,  he  will  most  richly  deserve  it, 
partly  for  his  designs  on  the  stranger,  principally  for  his  opin- 
ion of  Thornton.  If  he  were  a  knave  only  one  might  pity  him  : 
but  a  knave  and  fool  both,  are  a  combination  of  evil,  for  which 
there  is  no  intermediate  purgatory  of  opinion — nothing  short  of 
utter  damnation." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  87 

I  soon  arrived  at  Mr.  Thornton's  abode.  The  same  old  wo 
man,  poring  over  the  same  novel  of  Crebillon,  made  me  the 
same  reply  as  before ;  and  accordingly  again  I  ascended  the 
obscure  and  rugged  stairs,  which  seemed  to  indicate,  that  the 
road  to  vice  is  not  so  easy  as  one  generally  supposes.  I 
knocked  at  the  door,  and,  receiving  no  answering  acknowledg- 
ment, opened  it  at  once.  The  first  thing  I  saw  was  the  dark, 
rough  coat  of  Warburton  ;  that  person's  back  was  turned  to  me, 
and  he  was  talking  with  some  energy  to  Thornton  (who  lounged 
idly  in  a  chair,  with  one  ungartered  leg  thrown  over  the  elbow). 

"Ah,  Mr.  Pelham,"  exclaimed  the  latter,  starting  from  his 
not  ver)'  graceful  position,  "  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  see 
you — Mr.  Warburton,  Mr.  Pelham — Mr.  Pelham,  Mr.  Warbur- 
ton." 

My  new-made  and  mysterious  acquaintance  drew  himself  up 
to  his  full  height,  and  bowed  very  slightly  to  my  own  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  introduction.  A  low  person  would  have 
thought  him  rude.  I  only  supposed  him  ignorant  of  the  world. 
No  man  of  the  world  is  uncivil.  He  turned  round,  after  this 
stiff  condescension,  and  sank  down  on  the  sofa,  with  his  back 
towards  me. 

"I  was  mistaken,"  thought  I,  "when  I  believed  him  to  be 
above  such  associates  as  Thornton — they  are  well  matched." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Thornton,  "  I  am  very  sorry  I  could  not 
see  you  to  breakfast — a  particular  engagement  prevented  me — 
verbum  sap.  Mr.  Pelham,  you  take  me,  I  suppose — black  eyes, 
white  skin,  and  such  an  ankle  !  "  and  the  fellow  rubbed  his 
great  hands  and  chuckled. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  cannot  blame  you,  whatever  may  be  my 
loss — a  dark  eye  and  a  straight  ankle  are  powerful  excuses. 
What  says  Mr.  Warburton  to  them  ?  "  and  I  turned  to  the  ob- 
ject of  my  interrogatory. 

"  Really,"  he  answered  drily,  (but  in  a  voice  that  struck  me 
as  feigned  and  artificial,)  and  without  moving  from  his  un- 
courteous  position,  "  Mr.  Thornton  only  can  judge  of  the  nice- 
ties of  his  peculiar  tastes,  or  the  justice  of  his  general  excuses." 

Mr,  Warburton  said  this  in  a  sarcastic  bitter  tone.  Thornton 
bit  his  lips,  more,  I  should  think,  at  the  manner  than  the  words, 
and  his  small  grey  eyes  sparkled  with  a  malignant  and  stern 
expression,  which  suited  the  character  of  his  face  far  better  than 
the  careless  levitv  which  his  glances  usuallv  denoted. 

"  They  are  no  such  great  friends  after  all,"  thought  I ;  "  and 
let  me  change  my  attack.  Pray,"  I  asked,  "  among  all  your 
numerous  acquaintances  at  Paris,  did  you  ever  meet  with  a  Mr. 


SS  PELHAM;  OR, 

Tyrrell  ?  "  Warburton  started  from  his  chair,  and  as  instantly 
reseated  himself.  Thornton  eyed  me  with  one  of  those  peculiar 
looks  which  so  strongly  reminded  me  of  a  dog,  in  deliberation 
whether  to  bite  or  run  away. 

"  I  do  know  a  Mr.  Tyrrell !  "  he  said,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  What  sort  of  a  person  is  he  .'' "  I  asked,  with  an  indifferent 
air — "  a  great  gamester,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  He  does  slap  it  down  on  the  colors  now  and  then,"  replied 
Thornton.     "  I  hope  you  don't  know  him,  Mr.  Pelham  !  " 

"  Why  ?  "  said  I,  evading  the  question.  "  His  character  is  not 
affected  by  a  propensity  so  common,  unless,  indeed,  you  suppose 
him  to  be  more  a  gambler  than  a  gamester,  viz.,  more  acute  than 
unlucky." 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  say  any  such  thing,"  replied 
Thornton  ;  "  you  won't  catch  an  old  lawyer  in  such  imprudence." 

"  The  greater  the  truth,  the  greater  the  libel,"  said  Warburton, 
with  a  sneer. 

"No,"  resumed  Thornton,  "I  know  nothing  against  Mr. 
Tyrrell — not/iitig  !  He  i?iay  be  a.  very  good  man,  and  I  believe 
he  is  ;  but  as  a  friend,  Mr.  Pelham,  (and  Mr.  Thornton  grew 
quite  affectionate),  I  advise  you  to  have  as  little  as  possible  to 
do  with  that  sort  of  people.''^ 

"  Truly,"  said  I,  "  you  have  now  excited  my  curiosity.  Nothing, 
you  know,  is  half  so  inviting  as  mystery." 

Thornton  looked  as  if  he  had  expected  a  very  different  reply ; 
and  Warburton  said,  in  an  abrupt  tone — 

"  Whoever  enters  an  unknown  road  in  a  fog  may  easily  lose 
himself." 

"  True,"  said  I ;  "  but  that  very  chance  is  more  agreeable 
than  a  road  where  one  knows  every  tree  !  Danger  and  novelty 
are  more  to  my  taste  than  safety  and  sameness.  Besides,  as  I 
rarely  gamble  myself,  I  can  lose  little  by  an  acquaintance  with 
those  who  do." 

Another  pause  ensued — and,  finding  I  had  got  all  from  Mr. 
Thornton  and  his  uncourteous  guest  that  I  was  likely  to  do,  I 
took  my  hat  and  my  departure. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  thought  I,  "whether  I  have  profited  much 
by  this  visit.  Let  me  consider.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  not 
ascertained  why  I  was  put  off  by  Mr.  Thornton — for  as  to  his 
excuse,  it  could  only  have  availed  one  day,  and  had  he  been 
anxious  for  my  acquaintance,  he  would  have  named  another. 
I  have,  however,  discovered,  first,  that  he  does  not  wish  me  to 
form  any  connection  with  Tyrrell  ;  secondly,  from  Warburton's 
sarcasm,  and  his  glance  of  reply,  that  there  is  but  little  friend- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  89 

ship  between  those  two,  whatever  be  the  intitnacy  ;  and,  thirdly, 
that  Warburton,  from  his  dorsal  positions,  so  studiously  pre- 
served, either  wished  to  be  uncivil  or  unnoticed."  The  latter, 
after  all,  was  the  most  probable  supposition ;  and,  upon  the 
whole,  I  felt  more  than  ever  convinced  that  he  was  the  person 
I  suspected  him  to  be. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Tell  how  the  fates  my  giddy  course  did  guide, 
The  inconstant  turns  of  every  changing  hour. 

Pierce  Gaveston,  by  M.  Drayton. 

Je  me  retire  done. — Adieu,  Paris,  adieu! — BoiLEAU, 

When  I  returned  home,  I  found  on  my  table  the  following 
letter  from  my  mother  : — 

"  My  dear  Henry, 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  you  are  so  well  entertained  at  Paris 

— that  you  have  been  so  often  the   D s   and  C s ;  that 

Coulon  says  you  are  his  best  pupil — that  your  favorite  horse  is 
so  much  admired — and  that  you  have  only  exceeded  your  allow- 
ance by  ;^i,ooo.  With  some  difficulty  I  have  persuaded  your 
uncle  to  transmit  you  an  order  for  1,500/.,  which  will,  I  trust, 
make  up  all  your  deficiencies. 

"  You  must  not,  my  dear  child,  be  so  extravagant  for  the  fu- 
ture, and  for  a  very  good  reason,  viz.,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can. 
Your  uncle,  I  fear,  will  not  again  be  so  generous,  and  your  father 
can  not  assist  you.  You  will  therefore  see  jnore  clearly  than 
ever  the  necessity  of  marr}-ing  an  heiress  :  there  are  only  two  in 
England  (the  daughters  of  gentlemen)  worthy  of  you — the  most 
deserving  of  these  has  10,000/.  a  year,  the  other  has  100,000/. 
The  former  is  old,  ugly,  and  very  ill-tempered  :  the  latter  tolera- 
bly pretty,  and  agreeable,  and  just  of  age  ,  but  you  will  per- 
ceive the  impropriety  of  even  thinking  of  her  till  we  have  tried 
the  other.  I  am  going  to  ask  both  to  my  Sunday  soirees^  where 
I  never  admit  any  single  men,  so  that  ihcn\  at  least,  you  have  no 
rivals. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  son,  before  I  enter  into  a  subject  of  great 
importance  to  you,  I  wish  to  recall  to  your  mind  that  pleasure  is 
never  an  end,  but  a  means — viz.,  that  in  your  horses  and  amuse- 
ments at  Paris — your  visits  and  your  liaisons — you  have  always, 
I  trust,  remembered  that  these  were  only  so  far  desirable  as  the 


90  PELHAM;  OR, 

methods  of  shining  in  society.  I  have  now  a  new  scene  on 
which  you  are  to  enter,  with  very  different  objects  in  view,  and 
where  any  pleasures  you  find  have  nothing  the  least  in  com- 
mon with  those  you  at  present  enjoy. 

"  I  know  that  this  preface  will  not  frighten  you,  as  it  might 
many  silly  young  men.  Your  education  has  been  too  carefully 
attended  to,  for  you  to  imagine  that  any  step  can  be  rough  or 
unpleasant  which  raises  you  in  the  world.  '  To  come  at  once 
to  the  point.  One  of  the  seats  in  your  uncle's  borough  of  Buye- 
mall  is  every  day  expected  to  be  vacated ;  the  present  member, 
Mr.  Toolington,  can  not  possibly  live  a  week,  and  your  uncle  is 
very  desirous  that  you  should  fill  the  vacancy  which  Mr.  Tool- 
ington's  death  will  create.  Though  I  called  it  Lord  Glenmor- 
ris's  borough,  yet  it  is  not  entirely  at  his  disposal,  which  I  think 
very  strange,  since  my  father,  who  was  not  half  so  rich  as  youl 
uncle,  could  send  two  members  to  Parliament  without  the  least 
trouble  in  the  world — but  I  don't  understand  these  matters.  Pos- 
sibly your  uncle  (poor  man)  does  not  manage  them  well.  How 
ever,  he  says  no  time  is  to  be  lost.  You  are  to  return  immedi- 
ately to  England,  and  come  down  to  his  house  in shire.     It 

is  supposed  you  will  have  some  contest,  but  be  certain  eventu- 
ally to  come  in. 

"  You  will  also,  in  this  visit  to  Lord  Glenmorris,  have  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  of  securing  his  affection  :  you  know  it  is 
some  time  since  he  saw  you,  and  the  greater  part  of  his  prop- 
erty is  unentailed.  If  you  come  into  the  house,  you  must 
devote  yourself  wholly  to  it,  and  I  have  no  fear  of  your  succeed- 
ing :  for  I  remember,  when  you  were  quite  a  child,  how  well  you 
spoke  '  My  name  is  Norval,'  and  '  Romans,  countrymen,  and 
lovers,'  &c.  I  heard  Mr.  Canning  speak  the  other  day,  and  I 
think  his  voice  is  quite  like  yours.  In  short,  I  make  no  doubt 
of  seeing  you  in  the  ministry  in  a  very  few  years. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  son,  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  you 

should  set  out  Immediately.     You  will  call  on  Lady ,  and 

you  will  endeavor  to  make  firm  friends  of  the  most  desirable 
among  your  present  acquaintance  ;  so  that  you  may  be  on  the 
same  footing  you  are  now,  should  you  return  to  Paris.  This  a 
little  civility  will  easily  do ;  nobody  (as  I  before  observed),  ex- 
cept in  England,  ever  loses  by  politeness ; — by-the-by,  that  last 
word  is  one  you  must  never  use — it  is  too  Gloucester-place  like. 

"  You  will  also  be  careful,  in  returning  to  England,  to  make 
very  little  use  of  French  phrases  ;  no  vulgarity  is  more  unpleas- 
ing.  I  could  not  help  being  exceedingly  amused  by  a  book 
written  the  other  day,  which  professes  to  give  an  accurate  de- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  91 

scription  of  good  society.  Not  knowing  what  to  make  us  say  in 
English,  the  author  has  made  us  talk  nothing  but  French.  I 
have  often  wondered  what  common  people  think  of  us,  since  in 
their  novels  they  always  effect  to  portray  us  so  different  from 
themselves.  I  am  very  much  afraid  we  are  in  all  things  exactly 
like  them,  except  in  being  more  simple  and  unaffected.  The 
higher  the  rank,  indeed,  the  less  pretence,  because  there  is  less 
to  pretend  to.  This  is  the  chief  reason  why  our  manners  are 
better  than  low  persons  :  ours  are  more  natural,  because  they 
imitate  no  one  else  ;  theirs  are  affected,  because  they  think  to 
imitate  ours ;  and  whatever  is  evidently  borrowed  becomes 
vulgar.  Original  affectation  is  sometimes  good  ton, — imitated 
affectation,  ahvays  bad. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Henry,  I  must  now  conclude  this  letter,  al- 
ready too  long  to  be  interesting.  I  hope  to  see  you  about  ten 
days  after  you  receive  this  ;  and  if  you  can  bring  me  a  Cache- 
mire  shawl,  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  see  your  taste  in 
its  choice.     God  bless  you,  my  dear  son. 

"  Your  very  affectionate, 

"  Frances  Pelham." 

"  P.  S.  I  hope  you  go  to  church  sometimes  :  I  am  sorry  to 
see  the  young  men  of  the  preseni  day  so  irreligious  ;  it  is  very 
bad  taste  !  Perhaps  you  could  get  my  old  friend,  Madame 
de ,  to  choose  the  Cachemire  ; — take  care  of  your  health." 

This  letter  which  I  read  carefully  twice  over,  threw  me  into  a 
most  serious  meditation.  My  first  feeling  was  regret  at  leaving 
Paris  ;  my  second,  was  a  certain  exultation  at  the  new  prospects 
so  unexpectedly  opened  to  me.  The  gieat  aim  of  a  philosopher 
is,  to  reconcile  every  disadvantage  by  some  counterbalance  of 
good ;  where  he  cannot  create  this,  he  should  imagine  it.  I 
began,  therefore,  to  consider  less  what  I  should  loose  than  what 
I  should  gain,  by  quitting  Paris.  In  the  first  place,  I  was  toler- 
ably tired  of  its  amusements  :  no  business  is  half  so  fatiguing  as 
pleasure.  I  longed  for  a  change  :  behold,  a  change  was  at 
hand  !  Then,  to  say  truth,  I  was  heartily  glad  of  a  pretence  for 
escaping  from  a  numerous  cohort  oi  folks  amours,  with  Madame 
d'Anville  at  the  head  ;  and  the  very  circumstance  which  men 
who  play  the  German  flute  and  fall  in  love  would  have  consid- 
ered the  most  vexatious,  I  regarded  as  the  most  consolatory. 

My  mind  being  thus  relieved  from  its  primary  regret  at  my 
departure,  I  now  suffered  it  to  look  forward  to  the  advantages 
of  my  return  to  England.  My  love  ot  excitement  antl  variety 
made  an  election,  in  which  I  was  to  have  both  the  importance 


9^  PELHAM;  OR, 

of  \  fie  contest  and  the  certainty  of  the  success,  a  very  agreeable 
object  of  anticipation, 

1  was  also  by  this  time  wearied  with  my  attendance  upon 
women,  and  eager  to  exchange  it  for  the  ordinary  objects  of  am- 
bition to  men  :  and  my  vanity  whispered  that  my  success  in  the 
one  was  no  unfavorable  omen  of  my  prosperity  in  the  other. 
On  my  return  to  England,  with  a  new  scene  and  a  new  motive 
for  conduct,  I  resolved  that  I  would  commence  a  different  char- 
acter from  that  I  had  hitherto  assumed.  How  far  I  kept  this 
resolution  the  various  events  hereafter  to  be  shown  will  testify. 
For  myself,  I  felt  that  I  was  now  about  to  enter  a  more  crowded 
scene  upon  a  more  elevated  ascent ;  and  my  previous  experience 
of  human  nature  was  sufficient  to  convince  me  that  my  safety  re- 
quired a  more  continual  circumspection,  and  my  success  a  more 
dignified  bearing. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Je  noterai  cela,  madame,  dans  mon  livre. — Moliere. 

I  AM  not  one  of  those  persons  who  are  many  days  in  deciding 
what  may  be  effected  in  one.  "  On  the  the  third  day  from  this," 
said  I  to  Bedos,  "  at  half-past  nine  in  the  morning,  I  shall  leave 
Paris  for  England." 

"  Oh  my  poor,  wife  !  "  said  the  valet,  "  she  will  break  her 
heart  if  I  leave  her." 

"  Then  stay,"  said  I.     Bedos  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  prefer  being  with  Monsieur  to  all  things." 

"  What,  even  to  your  wife  ?  "  The  courteous  rascal  placed 
his  hand  to  his  heart  and  bowed.  "  You  shall  not  suffer  by 
your  fidelity — you  shall  take  your  wife  with  you." 

The  conjugal  valet's  countenance  fell.  "  No,"  he  said, — "he 
could  not  take  advantage  of  Monsieur's  generosity." 

"  I  insist  upon  it — not  another  word." 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  of  Monsieur;  but — but  my  wife 
is  very  ill,  and  unable  to  travel." 

"  Then,  in  that  case,  so  excellent  a  husband  cannot  think  of 
leaving  a  sick  and  destitute  wife." 

"  Poverty  has  no  law  ;  if  I  consulted  my  heart,  and  stayed,  I 
should  starve,  et  ilfauivivre."  * 

*  One  must  live. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  93 

'■^  Je  fi'en  vols  pas  la  necessite,"*  replied  I,  as  I  got  into  my  car- 
riage. That  repartee,  by  the  way,  I  cannot  claim  as  my  own ; 
it  is  the  very  unanswerable  answer  of  a  judge  to  an  expostula- 
ting thief. 

I  made  the  round  of  reciprocal  regrets,  according  to  the  or- 
thodox formula.  The  Duchesse  de  Perpignan  was  the  last ; — 
(Madame  cl'Anvi!  ie  I  reserved  for  another  day) — that  virtuous 
and  wise  personage  was  in  the  boudoir  of  reception.  I  glanced 
at  the  fatal  door  as  I  entered.  I  have  a  great  aversion,  after 
any  thing  has  once  happened  and  fairly  subsided,  to  make  any 
allusion  to  its  former  existence.  I  never,  therefore,  talked  to 
the  Duchess  about  our  ancient  egaremens.  I  spoke,  this  morn- 
ing of  the  marriage  of  one  person,  the  death  of  another,  and 
lastly,  the  departure  of  my  individual  self. 

"  When  do  you  go  ?  "  she  said,  eagerly. 

"  In  two  days  :  my  departure  will  be  softened,  if  I  can  execute 
any  commissions  in  England  for  Madame." 

"  None,"  said  she  ;  and  then  in  a  low  tone  (that  none  of  the 
idlers,  who  were  always  found  at  her  morning  levees,  should  hear), 
she  added,  "  you  will  receive  a  note  from  me  this  evening." 

I  bowed  changed  the  conversation,  and  withdrew.  I  dined  in 
my  own  rooms,  and  spent  the  evening  in  looking  over  the  vari- 
ous billets-doux,  recoived  during  my  sejour  at  Paris. 

"Where  shall  I  put  all  these  locks  of  hair  ? ''  asked  Bedos, 
opening  a  drawer-full. 

"Into  my  scrap-book." 

"  And  all  these  letters  ?  " 

"  Into  the  fire." 

I  was  just  getting  into  bed  when  the  Duchesse  de  Perpignan's 
note  arrived — it  was  as  follows  : — 

"  My  dear  Friend, 

"  For  that  word,  so  doubtful  in  our  language,  I  may  at 
least  call  you  in  your  own.  I  am  unwilling  that  you  should 
leave  this  country  with  those  sentiments  you  now  entertain  of 
me,  unaltered,  yet  I  cannot  imagine  any  form  of  words  of  suffi- 
cient magic  to  change  them.  Oil  !  if  you  knew  how  much  I  am 
to  be  pitied ;  if  .you  could  look  for  one  moment  into  this  lonely 
and  blighted  heart ;  if  you  could  trace,  step  by  step,  the  progress 
I  have  made  in  folly  and  sin,  you  would  see  how  much  of  what 
you  now  condemn  and  despise,  I  have  owed  to  circumstances, 
rather  than  to  the  vice  of  my  disposition.  I  was  born  a  beauty, 
educated  a  beauty,  owcti  fame,  rank,  power  to  beauty  ;  and  it  is 

*  I  don't  see  the  necessity  of  that. 


94  PELHAM;  GR, 

to  the  advantages  I  have  derived  from  person  that  I  owe  the 
ruin  of  my  mind.  You  have  seen  how  much  I  now  derive  from 
art ;  I  loathe  myself  as  I  write  that  sentence ;  but  no  matter  : 
from  that  moment  you  loathed  me  too.  You  did  not  take  into 
consideration  that  I  had  been  living  on  excitement  all  my  youth, 
and  that  in  my  maturer  years  I  could  not  relinquish  it.  I  had 
reigned  by  my  attractions,  and  I  thought  every  art  preferable  to 
resigning  my  empire  :  but,  in  feeding  my  vanity,  I  had  not  been 
able  to  stifle  the  dictates  of  my  heart.  Love  is  so  natural  to  a 
woman,  that  she  is  scarcely  a  woman  who  resists  it :  but  in  me 
it  has  been  a  sentiment,  not  a  passion. 

"  Sentiment,  then,  and  vanity,  have  been  my  seducers.  I  said 
that  I  owed  my  errors  to  circumstances,  not  to  nature.  You 
will  say,  that  in  confessing  love  and  vanity  to  be  my  seducers, 
I  contradict  this  assertion — you  are  mistaken.  I  mean,  that 
though  vanity  and  sentiment  were  in  me,  yet  the  scenes  in 
which  I  have  been  placed,  and  the  events  which  I  have 
witnessed,  gave  to  those  latent  currents  of  action  a  wrong  and 
a  dangerous  direction.  I  was  formed /;  ^z;^/  for  one  whom  I 
did  love  I  could  have  made  every  sacrifice.  I  married  a  man  I 
hated,  and  I  only  learnt  the  depths  of  my  heart  when  it  was 
too  late. 

"Enough  of  this;  you  will  leave  this  country;  we  shall 
never  meet  again — never  !  You  may  return  to  Paris,  but  I 
shall  then  be  no  more  ;  ti'importe — I  shall  be  unchanged  to  the 
last.    Je  mourrai  en  rcinc. 

"  As  a  latest  pledge  of  what  I  have  felt  for  you,  I  send  you 
the  enclosed  -chain  and  ring ;  as  a  latest  favor,  I  request  you 
to  wear  them  for  six  months,  and,  above  all,  for  two  hours  in 
the  Tuileries  to-morrow.  You  will  laugh  at  this  request  :  it 
seems  idle  and  romantic — perhaps  it  is  so.  Love  has  many 
exaggerations  in  sentiment,  which  reason  would  despise.  What 
wonder,  then,  that  mine,  above  that  of  all  others,  should  con- 
ceive them  ?  You  will  not,  I  know,  deny  this  request.  Fare- 
well ! — in  this  world  we  shall  never  meet  again.     Farewell ! 

"  E.  P." 

'*  A  most  sensible  effusion,"  said  I  to  myself,  when  I  had 
read  this  billet ,  "  and  yet,  after  all,  it  shows  more  feeling  and 
more  character  than  I  could  have  supposed  she  possessed." 
I  took  up  the  chain  :  it  was  of  Maltese  workmanship  ;  not  very 
handsome,  nor,  indeed,  in  any  way  remarkable,  except  for  a 
plain  hair  ring  which  was  attached  to  it,  and  which  I  found  my- 
self unable  to  take  off,  without  breaking.     "  It  is  a  very  singular 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  95 

request,"  thought  I,  "  but  then  it  comes  from  a  very  singular 
person  :  and  as  it  rather  partakes  of  adventure  and  intrigue,  I 
shall  at  all  events  appear  in  the  Tuileries  to-morrow,  chained 
and  ringed." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Thy  incivility  shall  not  make  me  fail  to  do  what  becomes  me ;  and  since 
thou  hast  more  valor  than  courtesy,  I  for  thee  will  hazard  that  life  which 
thou  wouldst  take  from  me. — Cassandra,  "elegantly  done  into  English  by  SiR 
Charles  Cotterell." 

About  the  usual  hour  for  the  promenade  in  the  TuilerieS,  I 
conveyed  myself  thither.  I  set  the  chain  on  and  ring  in  full  dis- 
play, rendered  still  more  conspicuous  by  the  dark-colored  dress 
which  I  always  wore.  I  had  not  been  in  the  garden  ten  min- 
utes, before  I  perceived  a  young  Frenchman,  scarcely  twenty 
years  of  age,  look  with  a  very  peculiar  air  at  my  new  decora- 
tions. He  passed  and  repassed  me,  much  oftener  than  the  alter- 
nations of  the  walk  warranted ;  and  at  last,  taking  off  his  hat, 
said  in  a  low  tone,  that  he  wished  much  for  the  honor  of  ex- 
changing a  few  words  with  me  in  private.  I  saw,  at  the  first 
glance,  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  accordingly  withdrew  with 
him  among  the  trees,  in  the  more  retired  part  of  the  garden. 

"  Permit  me,"  said  he,  "to  inquire  how  that  ring  and  chain 
came  into  your  possession  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  "  I  replied,  "  you  will  understand  me,  when  I 
say,  that  the  honor  of  another  person  is  nnplicated  in  my  con- 
cealment of  that  secret." 

''Sir,"  said  the  Frenchman,  coloring  violently,  "I  have  seen 
them  before — in  a  word,  they  belong  to  me  !  " 

I  smiled — my  young  hero  fired  at  this.  "  Oui^  ATonsieur" 
said  he,  speaking  very  loud,  and  very  quick,  "  they  belong  to 
me,  and  1  insist  upon  your  immediately  restoring  them,  or  vin- 
dicating your  claim  to  them  by  arms." 

"  You  leave  me  but  one  answer,  Monsieur,"  said  I  ;  "  I  will 
findairiend  to  wait  upon  yuu  inimedialely.  Allow  me  to  in- 
quire your  address?"  The  Frenchmnn,  who  was  greatly  agi- 
tated, produced  a  card.     We  bowed  and  separated. 

I  was  glancing  over  the  address  I  held  in   my   hand,  whicl) 

was — C.  de  Vautran,  Rue  dc  Bourbon,  Numero ,  when  my 

ears  were  saluted  with — 

"Now  do  vou  know  mc  ? — //<(?«  shouldst  be  Alon/.o." 


96  PELHAM;  OR, 

I  did  not  require  the  faculty  of  sight  to  recognize  Lord  Vin- 
cent. "  My  dear  fellow,"  said  I,  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  you  !  " 
and  thereupon  I  poured  into  his  ear  the  particulars  of  my  morn- 
ing adventure.  Lord  Vincent  listened  to  me  with  much  appar- 
ent interest,  and  spoke  very  unaffectedly  of  his  readiness  to 
serve  me,  and  his  regret  at  the  occasion. 

"  Pooh !  "  said  I,  "  a  duel  in  France  is  not  like  one  in  Eng- 
land ;  the  former  is  a  matter  of  course  ;  a  trifle  of  common  oc- 
currence ;  one  makes  an  engagement  to  fight,  in  the  same 
breath  as  an  engagement  to  dine  ;  but  the  latter  is  a  thing  of 
state  and  solemnity — long  faces — early  rising — and  will-making. 
But  do  get  this  business  over  as  soon  as  you  can,  that  we  may 
dine  at  the  Rocher  afterwards," 

"Well,  my  dear  Pelham,"  said  Vincent,  "I  cannot  refuse 
you  my  services;  and  as  I  suppose  Monsieur  de  Vaiitran  will 
choose  swords,  I  venture  to  augur  every  thing  from  your  skill 
in  that  species  of  weapon.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  in- 
terfered in  affairs  of  this  nature,  but  I  hope  to  get  v/ell  through 
the  present. 

'  Nobilis  ornatur  lauro  collega  secundo^ 

as  Juvenal  says  ;  au  revoir"  and  away  went  Lord  Vincent,  half 
forgetting  all  his  late  anxiety  for  my  life  in  his  paternal  pleasure 
for  the  delivery  of  his  quotation. 

Vincent  is  the  only  punster  1  ever  knew  with  a  good  heart. 
No  action,  to  that  race  in  general,  is  so  serious  an  occupation 
as  the  play  upon  words  ;  and  the  remorseless  habit  of  murder- 
ing a  phrase,  renders  them  perfectly  obdurate  to  the  simple 
death  of  a  friend.  I  walked  through  every  variety  the  straight 
paths  of  the  Tuileries  could  afford,  and  was  beginning  to  get  ex- 
ceedingly tired,  when  Lord  Vincent  returned.  He  looked  very 
grave,  and  I  saw  at  once  that  he  was  come  to  particularize  the 
circumstances  of  the  last  extreme.  "  The  Bois  de  Boulogne — 
pistols — /;/  one  hour"  were  the  three  leading  features  of  his  de- 
tail. 

"  Pistols  !  "  said  I  ;  "  well,  be  it  so.  I  would  rather  have  had 
swords,  for  the  young  man's  sake  as  much  as  my  own  ;  but  thir- 
teen paces  and  a  steady  aim  will  settle  the  business  as  soon. 
We  will  try  a  bottle  of  the  Chambertin  to-day,  Vincent."  The 
punster  smiled  faintly,  and  for  once  in  his  life  made  no  reply. 
We  walked  gravely  and  soberly  to  my  lodgings  for  the  pistols, 
and  then  proceeded  to  the  engagement  as  silently  as  philosophers 
should  do. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  97 

The  Frenchman  and  his  second  were  on  the  ground  first.  I 
saw  that  the  former  was  pale  and  agitated,  not,  I  think,  from 
fear,  but  passion.  When  we  took  our  ground,  Vincent  came  to 
me,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  suffer  me  to 
accommodate  this,  if  possible  !  " 

"  It  is  not  in  our  power,"  said  I,  receiving  the  pistol.  I  looked 
steadily  at  de  Vautran,  and  took  my  aim.  His  pistol,  owing, 
I  suppose,  to  the  trembling  of  his  hand,  went  off  a  moment 
sooner  than  he  had  anticipated — the  ball  grazed  my  hat.  My 
aim  was  more  successful — 1  struck  him  ijn  the  shoulder — the  ex- 
act place  I  had  intended.  He  staggered  a  few  paces,  but  did 
not  fall. 

We  hastened  towards  him — his  cheek  assumed  a  still  more 
livid  hue  as  I  approached  !  he  muttered  some  half-formed  curses 
between  his  teeth,  and  turned  from  me  to  his  second. 

"  You  will  inquire  whether  Monsieur  de  Vautran  is  satisfied," 
said  I  to  Vincent,  and  retired  to  a  short  distance. 

"  His  second,"  said  Vincent,  (after  a  brief  conference  with 
that  person,)  "  replies  to  my  question,  that  Monsieur  de  Vauti'an's 
wound  has  left  him,  for  the  present,  no  alternative."  Upon  this 
answer  I  took  Vincent's  arm,  and  we  returned  forthwith  to  my 
carriage. 

"  I  congratulate  you  most  sincerely  on  the  event  of  this  duel," 
said  Vincent.  "Monsieur  de  M — ~-  (de  Vautran's  second)  in- 
formed me,  when  I  waited  on  him,  that  your  antagonist  was  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  pistol  shots  in  Paris,  and  that  a  lady  with 
whom  he  had  been  long  in  love,  made  the  death  of  the  chain- 
bearer  the  price  of  her  favors.  Devilish  lucky  for  you,  my  good 
fellow,  that  his  hand  trembled  so  ;  but  I  did  not  know  you  were 
so  good  a  shot." 

"  Why,"  I  answered,  "  I  am  not  what  is  vulgarly  termed  '  a 
crack  shot ' — I  can  not  split  a  bullet  on  a  penknife  ;  but  I  am 
sure  of  a  target  somewhat  smaller  than  a  man  :  and  my  hand  is 
as  certain  in  the  field  as  it  is  in  the  practice  yard." 

"  Le  sentiment  de  nos  forces  les  augtnente,"  *  replied  Vincent. 
'*  Shall  I  tell  the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  Rocher  ? " 

*  The  conviction  of  our  forces  augments  them. 


98  PELHAM;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

Here's  a  kind  host,  that  makes  the  invitation, 
To  your  own  cost,  to  \\\'&fort  bminc  collation. 

Wycherly's  Gent.  Dancing  Master. 

Vous  pouvez  bien  juger  que  ie  n'aurai  pas  grande  peine  a  me  console! 
d'une  chose  dont  je  me  suis  deja  console  tante  de  fois. — Lettres  de  Boileau. 

As  I  was  walking  home  with  Vincent  from  the  Rue  Mont-or- 
gueil,  I  saw,  on  entering  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  two  figures  before 
us  ;  the  tall  and  noble  stature  of  the  one  I  could  not  for  a 
moment  mistake.  They  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  hotel,  which 
opened  in  that  noiseless  manner  so  peculiar  to  the  Conciergerie 
of  France.  I  was  at  the  door  the  moment  they  disappeared, 
but  not  before  I  had  caught  a  glance  of  the  dark  locks  and 
countenance  of  Warburton, — my  eye  fell  upon  the  number  of 
the  hotel. 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  I  have  been  in  that  house  before." 

"  Likely  enough,"  growled  Vincent,  who  was  gloriously 
drunk.  "  It  is  a  house  of  two-fold  utility — you  may  play  with 
cards,  or  coquet  with  women,  which  you  please." 

At  these  words  I  remembered  the  hotel  and  its  inmates  im- 
mediately. It  belonged  to  an  old  nobleman,  who,  though  on 
the  brink  of  the  grave,  was  still  grasping  at  the  good  things  on 
the  margin.  He  lived  with  a  pretty  and  clever  woman,  who 
bore  the  name  and  honors  of  his  wife.  They  kept  up  two 
salons.,  one  pour  le  petit  souper,  and  the  other  pour  le  petit  jeu. 
You  saw  much  karte  and  more  love-making,  and  lost  your  heart 
and  your  money  with  equal  facility.  In  a  word,  the  marquis 
and  his  Jolie petit  femme  'WQ.re  a  wise  and  prosperous  couple,  who 
made  the  best  of  their  lives,  and  lived  decently  and  honorably 
upon  other  people. 

"  Allans,  Pelham,"  cried  Vincent,  as  I  was  still  standing  at  the 
door  in  deliberation;  "  how  much  longer  will  you  keep  me  to 
congeal  in  this  'eager  and  nipping  air' — 'Quamdiu  patientiam 
nostram  abutere,  Catilina.'  " 

"  Let  us  enter,"  said  I.  "  I  have  the  run  of  the  house,  and 
we  may  find " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  99 

"  '  Some  young  vices — some  fair  iniquities,'  "  interrupted 
Vincent,  with  a  hiccup — 

"'  Leade  on,  good  fellow,'  quoth  Robin  Hood, 
'  Lead  on,  I  do  bid  thee.'  " 

And  with  these  words,  the  door  opened  in  obedience  to  my 
rap,  and  we  mounted  to  the  marquis's  tenement  au  premiere. 

The  room  was  pretty  full — the  soidisante  marquis  was  flitting 
from  table  to  table — betting  at  each,  and  coquetting  with  all ; 
and  the  marquis  himself,  with  a  moist  eye  and  a  shaking  hand, 
was  affecting  the  Don  Juan  with  the  various  Elviras  and  Annas 
with  which  his  salon  was  crowded.  Vincent  was  trying  to  fol- 
low me  through  the  crowd,  but  his  confused  vision  and  unsteady 
footing  led  him  from  one  entanglement  to  another,  till  he  was 
quite  unable  to  proceed.  A  tall,  corpulent  Frenchman,  six  foot 
by  five,  was  leaning,  {a  great  and  weighty  objection^  just  before 
him,  utterly  occupied  in  the  vicissitudes  of  an  ecarte  table,  and 
unconscious  of  Vincent's  repeated  efforts,  first  on  one  side,  and 
then  on  the  other,  to  pass  him. 

At  last,  the  perplexed  wit,  getting  more  irascible  as  he  grew 
more  bewildered,  suddenly  seized  the  vast  incumbrance  by  the 
arm,  and  said  to  him,  in  a  sharp,  querulous  tone,  "  Pray,  Mon- 
sieur, why  are  you  like  the  lote-tree  in  Mahomet's  Seventh 
Heaven  ?  " 

"  Sir  /"  cried  the  astonished  Frenchman. 

"  Because,"  (continued  Vincent,  answering  his  own  enigma) 
— "because,  beyond  you  there  is  710  passing  !'" 

The  Frenchman  (one  of  that  race  who  always  forgive  any 
thing  for  a  ban  mot)  smiled,  bowed,  and  drew  himself  aside. 
Vincent  steered  by,  and  joining  me,  hiccuped  out,  "  Fortiaque 
adversis  opponite  pectora  rebus." 

Meanwhile  1  had  looked  round  the  room  for  the  objects  of 
my  pursuit :  to  my  great  surprise  I  could  not  perceive  them  : 
they  may  be  in  the  other  room,  thought  I,  and  to  the  other  room 
I  went;  the  supper  was  laid  out,  and  an  old  bonne  w^s  quietly 
helping  herself  to  some  sweetmeat.  All  other  human  beings  (if, 
indeed,  an  old  woman  can  be  called  a  human  being !)  were, 
however,  invisible,  and  I  remained  perfectly  bewildered  as  to  the 
non-appearance  of  Warburton  and  his  companion.  I  entered 
the  gaming  room  once  more — I  looked  round  in  every  corner 
—  I  examined  every  face — but  in  vain;  and  with  a  feeling  of 
disappointment  very  disproportioned  to  my  loss,  I  took  Vin- 
cent's arm,  and  we  withdrew. 


loo  PELIIAM;  OR, 

The  next  morning  I  spent  with  Madame  d'Anville.  A  French' 
woman  easily  consoles  herself  for  the  loss  of  a  lover — she  con- 
verts him  into  a  friend,  and  thinks  herself  (nor  is  she  much  de- 
ceived) benefited  by  the  exchange.  We  talked  of  our  grief  in 
maxims,  and  bade  each  other  adieu  in  antitheses.  Ah !  it  is  a 
pleasant  thing  to  drink  with  Alcidonis  (in  Marmontel's  Tale)  of 
the  rose-colored  jDhial — to  sport  with  the  fancy,  not  to  brood 
over  the  passion  of  youth.  There  is  a  time  when  the  heart, 
from  very  tenderness,  runs  over,  and  (so  much  do  our  virtues  as 
well  as  vices  flow  from  our  passions)  there  is,  perhaps,  rather 
hope  than  anxiety  for  the  future  in  that  excess.  Then,  if  Pleas- 
ure errs,  it  errs  through  heedlessness,  not  design  ;  and  Love, 
wandering  over  flowers,  "  profifers  honey,  but  bears  riot  a  sting." 
Ah !  happy  time  !  in  the  lines  of  one  who  can  so  well  translate 
feeling  into  words — 

"  Fate  has  not  darkened  thee — Hope  has  not  made 
The  blossoms  expand  it  but  opens  to  fade  ; 
Nothing  is  known  of  those  wearing  fears 
Which  will  shadow  the  light  of  our  after  years." 

The  Improvisatrice. 
Pardon  this  digression — not  much,  it  much  be  confessed  in 
my  ordinary  strain — but  let  me,  dear  reader,  very  seriously  ad- 
vise thee  not  to  judge  of  me  yet.  When  thou  hast  got  to  the  end 
of  my  book,  if  thou  dost  condemn  it  or  its  hero — why  "  I  will 
let  thee  alone  "  (as  honest  Dogberry  advises)  "  till  thou  art  sober ; 
and,  if  thou  make  me  not,  than,  the  better  answer,  thou  art  not 
the  man  I  took  thee  for." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


It  must  be  confessed,  that  flattery  comes  mightily  easy  to  one's  mouth  in 
the  i)resence  of  royalty. — Letters  of  ^TY-va^^  Montague. 

'Tis  he. — How  came  he  thence — what  doth  he  here  ? — Lara. 

I  HAD  received  for  that  evening  (my  last  in  Paris)  an  invita- 
tion from  the  Duchesse  de  B .     I  knew  that  the  party  was 

to  be  small,  and  that  very  few  besides  the  royal  family  would 
compose  it.  I  had  owed  the  honor  of  this  invitation  to  my  in- 
timacy with  the s,  the  great  friends  of  the  duchesse,  and 

I  promised  myself  some  pleasure  in  the  engagement. 

There  were  but  eight  or  nine  persons  present  when  I  entered 
the  royal  chamber.     The  most  distinguished  of  these  I  recog' 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  loi 

nizecl  immediately  as  the .     He  came  forward  with  much 

grace  as  I  approached,  and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  seeing  me. 

"  You  were  presented,  I  think,  about  a  month  ago,"  added 

the ,  with  a  smile  of  singular  fascination  :  "  I  remember  it 

well." 

I  bowed  low  to  his  compliment. 

"  Do  you  propose  staying  long  at  Paris  ?  "  continued  the . 

"  I  protracted,"  I  replied,  "  my  departure  solely  for  the  honor 

this  evening  affords  me.     In  so  doing,  please  your ,  I  have 

followed  the  wise  maxim  of  keeping  the  greatest  pleasure  to  the 
last." 

The  royal  chevalier  bowed  to  my  answer  with  a  smile  still 
sweeter  than  before,  and  began  a  conversation  with  me  which 

lasted  for  several  minutes.     I  was  much  struck  with  the 's  air 

and  bearing.  They  possess  great  dignity,  without  any  affectation 
of  its  assumption.  He  speaks  peculiarly  good  English,  and  the 
compliment  of  addressing  me  in  that  language  was  therefore  as  ju- 
dicious as  delicate.  His  observ^ations  owed  little  to  his  rank  : 
they  would  have  struck  you  as  appropriate,  and  the  air  which 
accompanied  them  pleased  you  as  graceful,  even  in  a  simple  in- 
dividual.    Judge,  then,  if  they  charmed  me  in  the .     The 

upper  part  of  his  countenance  is  prominent  and  handsome,  and 
his  eyes  hav^e  much  softness  of  expression.  His  figure  is  slight 
and  particularly  well  knit ;  perhaps  he  is  altogether  more  adap- 
ted to  strike  in  private  than  with  public  effect.  Upon  the  whole 
he  is  one  of  those  very  few  persons  of  great  rank  whom  you  would 
have  had  pride  in  knowing  as  an  equal,  and  have  pleasure  in 
acknowledging  as  a  superior.* 

As  the paused,   and  turned  with  great  courtesy  to  the 

Due  de ,  I    bowed    my  way  to  the    Duchesse  de  B . 

That  personage,  whose  liveliness  and  piquancy  of  manner 
always  make  one  wish  for  one's  own  snke  that  her  rank  was 
less  exalted,  was  speaking  with  great  volubility  to  a  tall,  stupid- 
looking  man,  one  of  the  ministers,  and  smiled  most  graciously 
upon  me  as  I  drew  near.  She  spoke  to  me  of  our  national 
amusements.  "  You  are  not,"  said  she,  "  so  fond  of  dancing:  as 
we  are. 

"We  have  not  the  same  exalted  example  to  be  at  once  our 
motive  and  our  model,"  said  I,  in   allusion  to  the  Duchesse's 

♦  The  sketch  of  these  unfortunate  members  of  an  exiled  and  illustrious  family  may  not 
be  the  less  intcrostintj  from  the  reverses  which,  since  the  first  publication  of  tliis  work, 
placed  the  Orleans  family  on  the  Rourbon  tliroiic.  As  for  the  erring  Charles  X.,  he 
was  neither  a  great  monarch  nor  a  wise  man,  but  he  was,  in  air,  grace,  and  manner, 
the  most  thorough- bred  gentleman  '  ever  met.— H.  P 


102  PELHAM;  OR, 

well-known  attachment  to  that  accomplishment.    The  Duchesse 

d'A came  up  as  I  said  this,  and  the  conversation  flowed  on 

evenly  enough  till  the 's  whist  party   was    formed.     His 

partner  M^as  Madame  de  la  R ,  the   heroine  of  La  Vende'e, 

She  was  a  tall  and  very  stout  woman,  singularly  lively  and 
entertaining,  and  appeared  to  possess  both  the  moral  and  the 
physical  energy  to  accomplish  feats  still  more  noble  than  those 
she  performed. 

I  soon  saw  that  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  stay  very  long.  I 
had  already  made  a  favorable  impression,  and,  in  such  cases,  it 
is  my  constant  rule  immediately  to  retire.  Stay,  if  it  be  whole 
hours,  until  you  have  pleased,  but  leave  the  moment  after  your 
success.  A  great  genius  should  not  linger  too  long  either  in 
the  saIo7i  or  the  world.  He  must  quit  each  with  eclat.  In 
obedience  to  this  rule,  I  no  sooner  found  that  my  court  had 
been  effectually  made  than  I  rose  to  withdraw. 

"  You  will  return  soon  to  Parrs  ? "  said  the  Duchesse  de 
B . 

"I  cannot  resist  it,"  I  replied.  '■'■  Mon  corps  rcviendra  pour 
chercher  mon  ccEiir^ 

"  We  shall  not  forget  you,"  said  the  Duchesse. 

"  Your  Royal  Highness  has  new  given  me  my  cnly  induce- 
ment not  to  return,"  I  answered,  as  1  bowed  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  much  to  early  to  go  home ;  at  that  time  I  was  too 
young  and  restless  to  sleep  till  long  after  midnight ;  and  while  I 
was  deliberating  in  what  manner  to  pass  the  hours,  I  suddenly 
recollected  the  hotel  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  to  \\hich  Vincent 
and  I  had  paid  so  unceremonious  a  visit  the  night  before. 
Impressed  with  the  hope  that  I  might  be  more  successful 
in  meeting  Warburton  than  I  had  then  been,  I  ordered  the 
coachman  to  drive  to  the  abode  of  the  old  Marquis . 

The  salon  was  as  crowded  as  usual.  I  lost  a  few  Napoleons 
at  e'carte\  in  order  to  pay  my  entre'e,  and  then  commenced  a 
desultory  flirtation  with  one  of  the  fair  decoys.  In  this  occupa- 
tion my  eye  and  my  mind  frequently  wandered.  I  could  not 
divest  myself  of  the  hope  of  once  more  seeing  Warburton  before 
my  departure  from  Paris,  and  every  reflection  which  confirmed 
my  suspicions  of  his  identity  redoubled  my  interest  in  his  con- 
nection with  Tyrrell  and  the  vulgar  de'banch'e  of  the  Rue  St. 
Dominique.  I  was  making  some  languid  reply  to  my  Cynthia 
of  the  minute,  when  my  ear  was  suddenly  greeted  by  an  English 
voice.  I  looked  round,  and  saw  Thornton  in  close  conversation 
with  a  man  whose  back  was  turned  to  me,  but  whom  I  rightly 
conjectured  to  be  Tyrrell. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  103 

"  Oh  !  he'll  be  here  soon,"  said  the  former,  "  and  we'll  bleed 
Jiini  regularly  to-night.  It  is  very  singular  that  you  who  play  so 
much  better  should  not  have yf^w/r^  him  yesterday  evening." 

Tyrrell  replied  in  a  tone  so  low  as  to  be  inaudible,  and  a 
minute  afterwards  the  door  opened,  and  Warburton  entered. 
He  came  up  instantly  to  Thornton  and  his  companion  ;  and  after 
a  few  words  of  ordinary  salutation,  Warburton  said,  in  one  of 
those  modulated  but  artificial  tones  so  peculiar  to  himself,  "  I 
am  sure,  Tyrrell,  that  you  must  be  eager  for  your  revenge.  To 
lose  to  such  a  mere  tyro  as  myself,  is  quite  enough  to  double 
the  pain  of  defeat,  and  the  desire  of  retaliation." 

I  did  not  hear  Tyrrell's  reply,  but  the  trio  presently  moved 
towards  the  door,  which  till  then  I  had  not  noticed,  and  which 
was  probably  the  entrance  to  our  hostess's  boudoir.  The  soi- 
disaftte  opened  it  herself,  for  which  kind  oifice  Thornton  gave 
her  a  leer  and  a  wink,  characteristic  of  his  claims  to  gallantry. 
When  the  door  was  again  closed  upon  them,  I  went  up  to  the 
marquise,  and  after  a  few  compliments,  asked  whether  the 
room  Messieurs  les  Anglais  had  entered  was  equally  open  to  all 
guests  ? 

"  Why,"  said  she,  with  a  slight  hesitation,  "  those  gentlemen 
play  for  higher  stakes  than  we  usually  do  here,  and  one  of  them 
is  apt  to  get  irritated  by  the  advice  and  expostulations  of  the 
lookers-on  ;  and  so  after  they  had  played  a  short  time  in  the 
salon  last  night.  Monsieur  Thornton,  a  very  old  friend  of  mine, 
(here  the  lady  looked  down,)  asked  me  permission  to  occupy 
the  inner  room  ;  and  as  I  knew  him  so  well  1  could  have  no 
scruple  in  obliging  him." 

"Then,  I  suppose,"  said  I,  "that  as  a  stranger,  I  have  not 
permission  to  intrude  upon  them  .''  " 

"  Shall  I  inquire  ?  "  asked  the  marquise. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  it  is  not  worth  while ;"  and  accordingly  I 
reseated  myself,  and  appeared  once  more  occupied  in  sa\ing 
des  belles  choses  to  my  kind-hearted  neighbor.  I  could  not, 
however,  with  all  my  dissimulations,  sustain  a  conversation 
from  which  my  present  feelings  were  so  estranged,  for  more 
than  a  few  minutes,  and  I  was  never  more  glad  when  my  com- 
panion, displeased  with  my  inattention,  rose,  and  left  me  to  my 
own  retiections. 

What  could  Warburton  (if  he  were  the  person  I  suspected) 
gain  by  the  disguise  he  had  assumed?  He  was  too  rich  to 
profit  by  any  sums  he  could  win  from  Tyrrell,  and  too  much 
removed  from  Thornton's  station  in  life,  to  derive  any  pleasure 
or  benefit  from  his  acquaintance  with  that  person.  '  ilis  dark 


I04  PELHAM;  OR, 

threats  of  vengeance  in  thejardin  des  planks,  and  his  reference 
to  the  two  hundred  pounds  Tyrrell  possessed,  gave  me,  indeed, 
some  clue  as  to  his  real  object ;  but  then — why  this  disguise! 
Had  he  known  Tyrrell  before,  in  his  proper  semblance,  and 
anything  passed  between  them,  which  rendered  this  conceal- 
ment now  expedient  ? — this,  indeed,  seemed  probable  enough  ; 
but,  was  Thornton  entrusted  with  the  secret  ? — and  if  revenge 
was  the  object,  was  that  low  man  a  partaker  in  its  execution? 
or  was  he  not,  niore  probably,  playing  the  traitor  to  both  ?  As 
for  Tyrrell  himself,  his  own  designs  upon  Warburton  were 
sufficient  to  prevent  pity  for  any  fall  into  the  joit  he  had  digged 
for  others. 

Meanwhile,  time  passed  on,  the  hour  grew  late,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  guests  were  gone  ;  still  I  could  not  tear  my- 
self away ;  I  looked  from  time  to  time  at  the  door,  with  an 
indescribable  feeling  of  anxiety.  I  longed  yet  dreaded,  for  it 
to  open  ;  I  felt  as  if  my  own  fate  were  in  some  degree  implicated 
in  what  was  then  agitating  within,  and  I  could  not  resolve  to 
depart,  until  I  had  formed  some  conclusions  on  the  result. 

At  length  the  door  opened ;  Tyrrell  came  forth — his  counte- 
nance was  perfectly  hueless,  his  cheek  was  sunk  and  hollow,  the 
excitement  of  two  hours  had  been  sufficient  to  render  it  so.  I 
observed  that  his  teeth  were  set,  and  his  hand  clenched,  as  they 
are  when  we  idly  seek,  by  the  strained  and  extreme  tension  of 
the  nerves,  to  sustain  the  fever  and  the  agony  of  the  mind. 
Warburton  and  Thornton  followed  him  ;  the  latter  with  his  usual 
air  of  reckless  indifference — his  quick  rolling  eye  glanced  from 
the  marquise  to  myself,  and  though  his  color  changed  slightly, 
his  nod  of  recognition  was  made  with  its  wonted  impudence  and 
ease ;  but  Warburton  passed  on,  like  Tyrrell,  without  noticing 
or  heeding  anything  around.  He  fixed  his  large  bright  eye 
upon  the  figure  which  preceded  him,  without  once  altering  its 
direction,  and  the  extreme  beauty  of  his  features,  which,  not  all 
the  dishevelled  length  of  his  hair  and  whiskers  could  disguise, 
was  lighted  up  with  a  joyous  but  savage  expression,  which  made 
me  turn  away,  almost  with  a  sensation  of  fear. 

Just  as  Tyrrell  was  leaving  the  room,  Warburton  put  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder — "Stay,"  said  he,  "I  am  going  your  way, 
and  will  accompany  you."  He  turned  round  to  Thornton  (who 
was  already  talking  with  the  marquise)  as  he  said  this,  and 
waved  his  hand,  as  if  to  prevent  his  following;  the  next  mo- 
ment, Tyrrell  and  himself  had  left  the  room. 

I  could  not  now  remain  longer.  I  felt  a  feverish  restlessness, 
which  impelled  me  onwards.     I  quitted  the  salon,  and  was  on 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  105 

the  staircase  before  the  gamesters  had  descended,  Warburton 
was,  indeed,  but  a  few  steps  before  me  ;  the  stairs  were  but 
very  dimly  lighted  by  one  expiring  lamp ;  he  did  not  turn  round 
to  see  me,  and  was  probably  too  much  engrossed  to  hear  me. 

"  You  may  yet  have  a  favorable  reverse,"  said  he  to  Tyrrell. 

"  Impossible  !  "  replied  the  latter,  in  a  tone  of  such  deep  an- 
guish, that  it  thrilled  me  to  the  very  heart.  "  I  am  an  utter 
beggar — I  have  nothing  in  the  world — I  have  no  expectation 
but  to  starve  !  " 

While  he  was  saying  this,  I  perceived  by  the  faint  and  uncer- 
tain light,  that  Warburton's  hand  was  raised  to  his  own  coun- 
tenance. 

"  Have  you  no  hope — no  spot  wherein  to.  look  for  comfort — is 
beggary  your  absolute  and  only  possible  resource  from  famine  ? " 
he  replied,  in  a  low  and  suppressed  tone.  At  that  moment  we 
were  just  descending  into  the  courtyard.  Warburton  was  but 
one  step  behind  Tyrrell  :  the  latter  made  no  answer ;  but  as  he 
passed  from  the  dark  staircase  into  the  clear  moonlight  of  the 
court,  I  caught  a  glimpse  or  the  tears  which  rolled  heavily  and 
silently  down  his  cheeks.     Warburton  laid  his  hand  upon  him. 

"Turn,"  he  cried,  suddenly,  "your  cup  is  not  yet  full — look 
upon  me — and  remember  !" 

I  pressed  forward — the  light  shone  full  upon  the  countenance 
of  the  speaker — the  dark  hair  was  gone — my  suspicions  were 
true — I  discovered  at  one  glance  the  bright  locks  and  lofty  brow 
of  Reginald  Glanville.  Slowly  Tyrrell  gazed,  as  if  he  were  en- 
deavoring to  repel  some  terrible  remembrance,  which  gathered, 
with  every  instant,  more  fearfully  upon  him  ;  until,  as  the  stern 
countenance  of  Glanville  grew  darker  and  darker  in  its  mingled 
scorn  and  defiance,  he  uttered  one  low  cry,  and  sank  senseless 
upon  the  earth. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

Well,  he  is  gone,  and  with  him  go  these  thoughts. — 

SUAKSPEARE. 

What  ho  I  for  England  \—IbiJ. 

I  HAVE  always  had  an  insuperable  horror  of  being  placed  in 
what  the  vulgar  call  a  predicamc7it.  In  a  predicament  I  was 
most  certainly  placed  at  the  present  moment.  A  man  at  my 
feet  in  a  fit — the  cause  of  it  having  very  wisely  disappeared, 


io6  PELHAM;  OR, 

devolving  upon  me  the  charge  of  watching,  recovering,  and  con- 
ducting liome  the  afflicted  person — made  a  concatenation  of  dis- 
agreeable circumstances,  as  much  unsuited  to  the  temper  of 
Henry  Pelham,  as  his  evil  fortune  could  possibly  have  contrived. 

After  a  short  pause  of  deliberation,  I  knocked  up  the  porter, 
procured  some  cold  water,  and  bathed  Tyrrell's  temples  for 
several  moments  before  he  recovered.  He  opened  his  eyes 
slowly,  and  looked  carefully  round  with  a  fearful  and  suspicious 
glance  :  "  Gone — gone — (he  muttered) — ay — what  did  he  here 
at  such  a  moment? — vengeance — for  what?  /could  not  tell  it 
would  have  killed  her — let  him  thank  his  own  folly.  I  do  not 
fear  ;  I  defy  his  malice."  And  with  these  words  Tyrrell  sprung 
to  his  feet. 

"Can  I  assist  you  to  your  home  ?"  said  I;  "you  are  still 
unwell — pray  suffer  me  to  have  that  pleasure." 

I  spoke  with  some  degree  of  warmth  and  sincerity ;  the  un- 
fortunate man  stared  wildly  at  me  for  a  moment,  before  he  re' 
plied.  "  Who,"  said  he,  at  last,  "  who  speaks  to  me — the  lost 
the  guilty — the  ruined,  in  the  accents  of  interest  and  kindness  ?  " 

I  placed  his  arm  in  mine,  and  drew  him  out  of  the  yard  into 
the  open  street.  He  looked  at  me  with  an  eager  and  wistful 
survey,  and  then,  by  degrees,  appearing  to  recover  his  full  con- 
sciousness of  the  present,  and  recollection  of  the  past,  he  pressed 
my  hand  warmly,  and  after  a  short  silence,  during  which  we 
moved  on  slowly  towards  the  Tuileries,  he  said, — "  Pardon  me, 
sir,  if  I  have  not  sufficiently  thanked  you  for  your  kindness  and 
attention.  I  am  now  quite  restored  ;  the  close  room  in  which  I 
have  been  sitting  for  so  many  hours,  and  the  feverish  excite- 
ment of  play,  acting  upon  a  frame  much  debilitated  by  ill  health, 
occasioned  my  momentary  indisposition.  I  am  now,  I  repeat, 
quite  recovered,  and  will  no  longer  trespass  upon  your  good- 


nature." 


"  Really,"  said  I,  "  you  had  better  not  discard  my  services 
yet.     Do  suffer  me  to  accompany  you  home  ?  " 

"  Home  !  "  muttered  Tyrrell,  with  a  deep  sigh  ;  "  no — no  ! " 
and  then,  as  if  recollecting  himself,  he  said,  "  I  thank  you,  sir, 
but — but — " 

I  saw  his  embarrassment,  and  interrupted  him. 

"  Well,  if  I  can  not  assist  you  any  further,  I  will  take  your 
dismissal.  I  trust  we  shall  meet  again  under  auspices  better 
calculated  for  improving  acquaintance." 

Tyrrell  bowed,  once  more  pressed  my  hand,  and  we  parted. 
I  hurried  on  up  the  long  street  towards  my  hotel. 

When  I  had  got  several  paces  beyond  Tyrrell,  I  turned  back 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  107 

to  look  at  him.  He  was  standing  in  the  same  place  in  which  I 
had  left  him.  I  saw  by  the  moonlight  that  his  face  and  hands 
were  raised  towards  Heaven.  It  was  but  for  a  moment  :  his 
attitude  changed  while  I  was  yet  looking,  and  he  slowly  and 
calmly  continued  his  way  in  the  same  direction  as  myself. 
When  I  reached  my  chambers,  I  hastened  immediately  to  bed, 
but  not  to  sleep  :  the  extraordinary  scene  I  had  witnessed  ;  the 
dark  and  ferocious  expression  of  Glaaville's  countenance,  so 
strongly  impressed  with  every  withering  and  deadly  passion  ;  the 
fearful  and  unaccountable  remembrance  that  had  seemed  to 
gather  over  the  livid  and  varying  face  of  the  gamester  ;  the  mys- 
tery of  Glanville's  disguise  ;  the  intensity  of  a  revenge  so  terribly 
expressed,  together  with  the  restless  and  burning  anxiety  I  felt 
— not  from  idle  curiosity,  but,  from  my  early  and  intimate 
friendship  for  Glanville,  to  fathom  its  cause — all  crowded  upon 
my  mind  with  a  feverish  confusion,  that  effectually  banished 
repose. 

It  was  with  that  singular  sensation  of  pleasure  which  none 
but  those  who  have  passed  frequent  nights  in  restless  and  painful 
agitation,  can  recognize,  that  I  saw  the  bright  sun  penetrate 
through  my  shutters,  and  heard  Bedos  move  across  my  room. 

"  What  hour  will  Monsieur  have  the  post-horses  ?  "  said  that 
praiseworthy  valet. 

"  At  eleven,"  answered  I,  springing  out  of  bed  with  joy  at  the 
change  of  scene  which  the  very  mention  of  my  journey  brought 
before  my  mind. 

I  was  turning  listlessly,  as  I  sate  at  breakfast,  over  the  pages 
of  Galignani's  Messenger,  when  the  following  paragraph  caught 
my  attention  : — 

"  It  is  rumored   among  the  circles  of  the   Faubourg,  that  a 

duel  was   fought  on ,  between  a  young  Englishman   and 

Monsieur  D ;  the  cause  of  it  is  said   to   be  the  pretensions 

of  both  to  the  beautiful    Duchesse  de  P ,  who,  if  report  be 

true,  cares  for  neither  of  the  gallants,  but  lavishes  her  favors 
upon  a  certain  attach^  to  the  English  embassy." 

"Such,"  thought  I,  "are  the  materials  for  all  iunnan  his- 
tories. Every  one  who  reads,  will  eagerly  swallow  tiiis  account 
as  true  :  if  an  author  wore  writing  the  memoirs  of  the  court,  he 
would  compile  his  facts  and  scandal  from  this  very  collection 
of  records  ;  and  yet,  though  so  near  the  truth,  how  totally  false 
it  is  !  Thank  Heaven,  however,  that,  at  least,  I  am  not  sus- 
pected of  the  degradation  of  the  duchess's  love  : — to  fight  for 
her  may  make  me  seem  a  fool — to  be  loved  by  her  would 
constitute  me  a  villain." 


loS  PELHAM;  OR, 

"The  horses,  sir!  "said  Bedos  ;  and  "The  bill,  sir  ?"  said 
the  gar^on.  Alas !  that  those  and  that  should  be  so  coupled 
together ;  and  that  we  can  never  take  our  departure  without 
such  awful  witnesses  of  our  sojourn.  Well — to  be  brief — the 
bill  for  once  was  discharged — the  horses  snorted — the  carriage- 
door  was  opened — I  entered — Bedos  mounted  behind — crack 
went  the  whips — off  went  the  steeds,  and  so  terminated  my 
adventures  at  dear  Paris. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

O,  cousin,  you  know  him — the  fine  gentleman  they  talk  of  so  much  in 
town. — Wycherly's  Dancing  Master. 

By  the  bright  days  of  m.y  youth,  there  is  somethimg  truly 
delightful  in  the  quick  motion  of  four,  ay,  or  even  two  post- 
horses  !  In  France,  where  one's  steeds  are  none  of  the  swiftest, 
the  pleasures  of  travelling  are  not  quite  so  great  as  in  England  ; 
still,  however,  to  a  man  who  is  tired  of  one  scene — panting  for 
another — in  love  with  excitement,  and  yet  not  wearied  of  its 
pursuit — the  turnpike-road  is  more  grateful  than  the  easiest 
chair  ever  invented,  and  the  little  prison  we  entitle  a  carriage, 
more  cheerful  than  the  state  rooms  of  Devonshire  House. 

We  reached  Calais  in  safety,  and  in  good  time,  the  next  day. 

"Will  Monsieur  dine  in  his  rooms,  or  at  the  table  d'hote?" 

"In  his  rooms,  of  course,"  said  Bedos,  indignantly  deciding 
the  question.  A  French  valet's  dignity  is  always  involved  in 
his  master's. 

"  You  are  too  good,  Bedos,"  said  I,  "  I  shall  dine  at  the 
table  d'hote — whom  have  you  there  in  general  ?  " 

"  Really,"  said  the  garfoti,  "  we  have  such  a  swift  succession 
of  guests,  that  we  seldom  see  the  same  faces  two  days  running. 
We  have  as  many  changes  as  an  English  administration." 

"  You  are  facetious,"  said  I. 

"  No,"  returned  the  gar^on,  who  was  a  philosopher  as  well  as 
a  wit ;  "  no,  my  digestive  organs  are  very  weak,  and  par  conse- 
quence^ I  am  naturally  melancholy — Ah,  ma/oi,  tres  triste ! '^  and 
with  these  words  the  sentimental  plate-changer  placed  his  hand 
— I  can  scarcely  say,  whether  on  his  heart,  or  his  stomach,  and 
sighed  bitterly  ! 

"  How  long,"  said  I,  "  does  it  want  to  dinner.''  "  My  question 
restored  the  srarr.nn  >^n .himself. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  109 

"  Two  hours,  Monsieur,  two  hours,"  and  twirling  his  serviette 
with  an  air  of  exceeding  importance,  off  went  my  melancholy 
acquaintance  to  compliment  new  customers,  and  complain  of  his 
digestion. 

After  I  had  arranged  my  toilette — yawned  three  times,  and 
drunk  two  bottles  of  soda-water,  I  strolled  into  the  town.  As  I 
was  sauntering  along  leisurely  enough,  I  heard  my  name 
pronounced  behind  me.  I  turned,  and  saw  Sir  Willoughby 
Townshend,  an  old  baronet  of  an  antediluvian  age — a  fossil 
witness  of  the  wonders  of  England,  before  the  deluge  of  French 
manners  swept  away  ancient  customs,  and  created,  out  of  the 
wrecks  of  what  had  been,  a  new  order  of  things,  and  a  new  race 
C)f  mankind. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  Mr.  Pelham,  how  are  you  ?  and  the  worthy 
Lady  Frances,  your  mother,  and  your  excellent  father,  all  well  ? 
— I'm  delighted  to  hear  it.  Russelton,"  continued  Sir  Willoughby, 
turning  to  a  middle-aged  man,  whose  arm  he  held,  "  yovi  remem- 
ber Pelham — true  Whig — great  friend  of  Sheridan's? — let  me 
introduce  his  son  to  you.  Mr.  Russelton,  Mr.  Pelham ;  Mr. 
Pelham,  Mr.  Russelton." 

At  the  name  of  the  person  thus  introduced  to  me,  a  thousand 
recollections  crowded  upon  my  mind  ;  the  contemporary  and 
rival  of  Napoleon — the  autocrat  of  the  great  world  of  fashion 
and  cravats — the  mighty  genius  before  whom  aristocracy  hath 
been  humbled  and  ton  abashed — at  whose  nod  the  haughtiest 
noblesse  of  Europe  had  quailed — who  had  introduced,  by  a  sin- 
gle example,  starch  into  neckcloths,  and  had  fed  the  pampered 
appetite  of  his  boot-tops  on  champagne — whose  coat  and  whose 
friend  were  cut  with  an  equal  grace — and  whose  name  was  con- 
nected with  every  triumph  that  the  world's  great  virtue  of  audacity 
could  achieve — the  illustrious,  the  immortal  Russelton,  stood  be- 
fore me  !  I  recognized  in  him  a  congenial,  though  a  superior 
spirit,  and  I  bowed  with  a  profundity  of  veneration,  with  which 
no  other  human  being  has  ever  inspired  me. 

Mr.  Russelton  seemed  pleased  with  my  evident  respect,  and 
returned  my  salutation  with  a  mock  dignity  which  enchanted 
me.  He  olfereil  me  his  disengaged  arm  ;  I  took  it  with  trans- 
port, and  we  all  three  proceeded  up  the  street. 

"  So,"  said  Sir  Willoughby — "so,  Russelton,  you  like  your 
quarters  here  ;  plenty  of  sport  among  the  English,  I  should 
think :  you  have  not  forgotten  the  art  of  quizzing  ;  eh,  old  fellow  ?  " 

"Even  if  I  had,"  said  Mr.  Russelton,  speaking  very  slowly, 
"  the  sight  of  Sir  Willoughby  Townshend  would  be  quite  suffi- 
cient to  refresh  my  memory.     Yes,"  continued  the  venerable 


no  PELHAM;  OR, 

wreck,  after  a  short  pause — "yes,  I  like  my  residence  pretty 
well  ;  I  enjoy  a  calm  conscience,  and  a  clean  shirt ;  what  more 
can  man  desire  ?  I  have  made  acquaintance  with  a  tame  parrot, 
and  I  have  taught  it  to  say,  whenever  an  English  fool  withastifif 
neck  and  a  loose  swagger  passes  him — '  True  Briton — true 
Briton.'  I  take  care  of  my  health,  and  reflect  upon  old  age. 
I  have  read  Gil  Bias,  and  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man;  and,  in 
short,  what  with  instructing  my  parrot,  and  improving  myself,  1 
think  I  pass  my  time  as  creditably  and  decorously  as  the  Bishop 

of  Winchester,  or  my  Lord  of  A himself.     So  you  have 

just  come  from  Paris,  I  presume,  Mr.  Pelham  ?  " 

"  I  left  it  yesterday  !  " 

"  Full  of  those  horrid  English,  I  suppose ;  thrusting  their 
broad  hats  and  narrow  minds  into  every  shop  in  the  Palais 
Royal — winking  their  dull  eyes  at  the  damsels  of  the  counter, 
and  manufacturing  their  notions  of  French  into  a  higgle  for 
sous.  Oh  !  the  monsters ! — they  bring  on  a  bilious  attack 
whenever  I  think  of  them :  the  other  day  one  of  them  accosted 
me,  and  talked  me  into  a  nervous  fever  about  partriotism  and 
roast  pigs :  luckily  I  was  near  my  own  house,  and  reached  it 
before  the  thing  became  fatal ;  but  only  think,  had  I  wandered 
too  far  when  he  met  me  !  at  my  time  of  life,  the  shock  would 
have  been  too  great ;  I  should  certainly  have  perished  in  a  fit. 
I  hope  at  least,  they  would  have  put  the  cause  of  my  death  in 
my  epitaph — '  Died,  of  an  Englishman,  John  Russelton,  Esq., 
aged,'  etc.  Pah  !  You  are  not  engaged,  Mr.  Pelham  ;  dine 
with  me  to-day  ;  Willoughby  and  his  umbrella  are  coming." 

"  Volontiers,'"  said  I,  "  though  I  was  going  to  make  observa- 
tions on  men  and  manners  at  the  table  d'  hbte  of  my  hotel." 

''  I  am  most  truly  grieved,"  replied  Mr.  Russelton,  "  at  de- 
priving you  of  so  much  amusement.  With  me  you  will  only  find 
some  tolerable  Lafitte,  and  an  anomalous  dish  my  ciiisiniere  calls 
a  mutton  chop.  It  will  be  curious  to  see  what  variation  in  the 
monotony  of  mutton  she  will  adopt  to-day.  The  first  time  I 
ordered  '  a  chop,'  I  thought  I  had  amply  explained  every  neces- 
sary particular ;  a  certain  portion  of  flesh,  and  a  gridiron  :  at 
seven  o'clock  up  came  a  cbtdette  paJiee !  Faiite  de  ?}iieux,  I 
swallowed  the  composition,  drowned  as  it  was  in  a  most  perni- 
cious sauce.  I  had  one  hour's  sleep,  and  the  nightmare,  in 
consequence.  The  next  day,  I  imagined  no  mistake  could  be 
made  :  sauce  was  strictly  prohibited  ;  all  extra  ingredients  laid 
under  a  most  special  veto,  and  a  natural  gravy  gently  recom- 
mended :  the  cover  was  removed,  and  lo  !  a  breast  of  mutton, 
all  bone  and  gristle,  like  the  dying  gladiator  !     This  time  mv 


AD  VENTURES  OF  A  GENTLE  MA  AT.  1 1 1 

heart  was  too  full  for  wrath  ;  I  sat  clown  and  wept !  To-day  will 
be  the  third  time  I  shall  make  the  experiment,  if  French  cooks 
will  consent  to  let  one  starve  upon  nature.  For  my  part,  I  have 
no  stomach  left  now  for  art  :  I  wore  out  my  digestion  in  youth, 
swallowing  Jack  St.  Leger's  suppers,  and  Sheridan's  promises 
to  pay.  Pray,  Mr.  Pelham,  did  )'ou  try  Staub  when  you  were  at 
Paris  ? " 

"  Yes  :  and  thought  him  one  degree  better  than  Stulz,  whom 
indeed,  I  have  long  condemned,  as  fit  only  for  minors  at  Oxford, 
and  majors  in  the  infantry." 

"True,"  said  Russelton,  with  a  very  faint  smile  at  a  pun, 
somewhat  in  his  own  way,  and  levelled  at  a  tradesman,  of  whom 
he  was,  perhaps,  a  Httle  jealous — "  True  ;  Stultz  aims  at  making 
gentlemen,  not  coats  ;  there  is  a  degree  of  aristocratic  pretension 
in  his  stitches,  which  is  vulgar  to  an  appalling  degree.  You  can 
tell  a  Stultz  coat  any  where,  which  is  quite  enough  to  damn  it ; 
the  moment  a  man's  known  by  an  invariable  cut,  and  that  not 
orginal,  it  ought  to  be  all  over  with  him.  Give  me  the  man  who 
makes  the  tailor,  not  the  tailor  who  makes  the  man." 

"  Right,  by  Jove  !  "  cried  Sir  Willoughbv,  who  was   as  badly 

dressed   as  one  of  Sir   E 's  dinners.     "  Right ;  just  my 

opinion.  I  have  always  told  my  Schneiders  to  make  my  clothes 
neither  in  the  fashion  nor  out  of  it ;  to  copy  no  other  man's  coat, 
and  to  cut  their  cloth  according  to  my  natural  body,  not  accord- 
ing to  an  isosceles  triangle.  Look  at  this  coat,  for  instance," 
and  SirWilloughby  Townshend  made  a  dead  halt,  that  we  might 
admire  his  garment  the  more  accurately. 

"  Coat !  "  said  Russelton,  with  an  appearance  of  the  most  na'tve 
surprise,  and  taking  hold  of  the  collar,  suspiciously,  bv  the  finger 
and  thumb  ;  "  coat,  Sir  Willoughby  !  do  you  call  this  thing  a 
coat?" 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

J'ai  toujours  cru  que  le  bon  n'etoit  que  le  bfau  mis  en  action. — Rousseau. 

Shortly  after  Russelton's  answer  to  Sir  Willoughby's  eulogis- 
ticobservationson  his  own  attire,  I  left  those  two  worthies  "till 
I  was  to  join  them  at  dinner  :  it  wanted  three  houre  yet  to  that 
time,  and  I  repaired  to  my  quarters  to  bathe  and  write  letters. 
I  scribbled  one  to  Madame  D'Anville,  full  of  antitheses  and 
maxims,  sure  to  charm  her  ;  another  to  my  mother,  to  prejiare 
her  for  my  arrival ;  and  a  third  to   Lord  Vincent,  giving   him 


112  PELHAM;  OR, 

certain  commissions  at  Paris,  which  I  had  forgotten  personally 
to  execute. 

My  pen  is  not  that  of  a  ready  writer  ;  and  what  with  yawning, 
stretching,  and  putting  pen  to  paper,  it  was  time  to  bathe  and 
dress  before  my  letters  were  completed.  I  set  off  to  Russelton's 
abode  in  high  spirits,  and  fully  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  a 
character  so  original. 

It  was  a  very  small  room  in  which  I  found  him  ;  he  was 
stretched  in  an  easy  chair  before  the  fire-place,  gazing  com- 
placently at  his  feet,  and  apparently  occupied  in  anything  but 
listening  to  Sir  Willoughby  Townshend,  who  was  talking  with 
great  vehemence  about  politics  and  the  corn-laws.  Notwith- 
standing the  heat  of  the  weather,  there  was  a  small  fire  on  the 
hearth,  which  aided  by  the  earnestness  of  his  efforts  to  convince 
his  host,  put  poor  Sir  Willoughby  into  a  most  intense  perspira- 
tion. Russelton,  however,  seemed  enviably  cool,  and  hung  over 
the  burning  wood  like  a  cucumber  on  a  hotbed.  Sir  Willoughby 
came  to  a  full  stop  by  the  window,  and  (gasping  for  breath)  at- 
tempted to  throw  it  open. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  for  Heaven's  sake,  what  are  you 
doing  ? "  cried  Russleton,  starting  up ;  "  do  you  mean  to  kill 
me  ? " 

"  Kill  you  !  "  said  Sir  W^illoughby,  quite  aghast. 

"Yes;  kill  me!  is  it  not  quite  cold  enough  already  in  this 
d — d  seafaring  place,  without  making  my  only  retreat,  humble 
as  it  is,  a  theatre  for  thorough  draughts  ?  Have  I  not  had  the 
rheumatism  in  my  left  shoulder,  and  the  ague  in  my  little  finger, 
these  last  six  months  ?  and  must  you  now  terminate  my  misera- 
ble existence  at  one  blow,  by  opening  that  abominable  lattice  ? 
Do  you  think,  because  your  great  frame,  fresh  from  the  York- 
shire wolds,  and  compacted  of  such  materials,  that  one  would 
think,  in  eating  your  beeves,  you  had  digested  their  hide  into 
skin — do  you  think,  because  your  limbs  might  be  cut  up  into 
planks  for  a  seventy-eight,  and  warranted  waterproof  without 
pitch,  because  of  the  density  of  their  pores — do  you  think,  be- 
cause you  are  as  impervious  as  an  araphorostic  shoe,  that  I, 
John  Russelton,  am  equally  impenetrable,  and  that  you  are  to 
let  easterly  winds  play  about  my  room  like  children,  begetting 
rheums  and  asthmas  and  all  manner  of  catarrhs  ?  I  do  beg,  Sir 
Willoughby  Townshend,  that  you  will  suffer  me  to  die  a  more 
natural  and  civilized  death  ;  "  and  so  saying,  Russelton  sank 
down  into  his  chair,  apparently  in  the  last  stage  of  exhaustion. 

Sir  Willoughby,  who  remembered  the  humorist  in  all  his  de- 
parted glor}',  and  still  venerated  him  as  a  temple  where    the 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  113 

deity  yet  breathed,  though  the  altar  was  overthrown,  made  to 
this  extraordinary  remonstrance  no  other  reply  than  a  long 
whiff,  and  a  "  Well,  Russelton,  damme  but  you're  a  queer  fellow." 

Russelton  now  turned  to  me,  and  invited  me,  with  a  tone  of 
the  most  lady-like  languor,  to  sit  down  near  the  fire.  As  I  am 
naturally  of  a  chilly  disposition,  and  fond,  too,  of  beating  peo- 
ple in  their  own  line,  I  drew  a  chair  close  to  the  hearth,  de- 
clared the  weather  was  very  cold,  and  requested  permission  to 
ring  the  bell  for  some  more  wood.  Russelton  stared  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  with  a  politeness  he  had  not  deigned  to  exert 
before,  approached  his  chair  to  mine,  and  began  a  conversation, 
which,  in  spite  of  his  bad  witticisms,  and  peculiarity  of  manner, 
I  found  singularly  entertaining. 

Dinner  was  announced,  and  we  adjourned  to  another  room ; 
— poor  Sir  Willoughby,  with  his  waistcoat  unbuttoned,  and 
breathing  like  a  pug  in  a  phthisis — groaned  bitterly,  when  he 
discovered  that  this  apartment  was  smaller  and  hotter  than  the 
one  before.  Russelton  immediately  helped  him  to  some  scald- 
ing soup — and  said,  as  he  told  the  ser\'ant  to  hand  Sir  Wil- 
loughby the  cayenne,  "you  will  find  this,  my  dear  Townshend, 
a  very  sensible /is'A?^''^  for  this  severe  season." 

Dinner  went  off  tamely  enough,  with  the  exception  of  "our 
fat  friend's  "  agony,  which  Russelton  enjoyed  most  luxuriously. 
The  threatened  mutton-chops  did  not  make  their  appearance, 
and  the  dinner,  though  rather  too  small,  was  excellently  cooked, 
and  better  arranged.  With  the  dessert,  the  poor  baronet  rose, 
and  pleading  sudden  indisposition,  tottered  out  of  the  room. 

When  he  was  gone,  Russelton  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
and  laughed  for  several  minutes  with  a  low  chuckling  sound,  till 
the  tears  ran  down  his  cheek. 

After  a  few  jests  at  Sir  Willoughby,  our  conversation  turned 
upon  other  individuals.  I  soon  saw  that  Russelton  was  a  soured 
and  disappointed  man  :  his  remarks  on  people  were  all  sarcasms 
— his  mind  was  overflowed  with  a  suffusion  of  ill-nature — he  bit 
as  well  as  growled.  No  man  of  the  world  ever,  I  am  convinced, 
becomes  a  real  philosopher  in  retirement.  People  who  have 
been  employed  for  years  upon  trifles  have  not  the  greatness  of 
mind  which  could  alone  make  them  indifferent  to  whnt  they 
have  coveted  all  their  lives,  as  most  enviable  aiul  important. 

"  Have  you  read 's  memoirs  ?  "  said  Mr.  Russelton.    "  No  ! 

Well,  I  imagined  every  one  had  at  least  dipped  into  them.  I 
have  often  iiad  serious  thoughts  of  dignifying  my  own  retire- 
ment, by  the  literary  employment  of  detailing  my  adventures  in 
the  world.     I  think  I  could  throw  a  new  light  upon  things  and 


114  PELHAM ;  OR, 

persons,  which  my  contemporaries  will  shrink  back  hke  owls  at 
perceiving." 

"  Your  life,"  said  I,  "  must  indeed  furnish  matter  of  equal  in- 
struction and  amusement." 

"  Ay,"  answered  Russelton  :  "  amusement  to  the  fools,  but  in- 
struction to  the  knaves.  I  am,  indeed,  a  lamentable  example  to 
the  fall  of  ambition.  I  brought  starch  into  all  the  neckcloths  in 
England,  and  I  end  by  tying  my  own  at  a  three-inch  looking- 
glass  at  Calais.  You  are  a  young  man,  Mr.  Pelham,  about  to 
commence  life,  probably  with  the  same  views  as  (though  greater 
advantages  than)  myself ;  perhaps,  in  indulging  my  egotism,  I 
shall  not  weary  without  recompensing  you. 

"  I  came  into  the  world  with  an  inordinate  love  of  glory,  and 
a  great  admiration  of  the  original ;  these  propensities  might 
have  made  me  a  Shakspeare — they  did  more,  they  made  me  a 
Russleton  !  When  I  was  six  years  old,  I  cut  my  jacket  into  a 
coat,  and  turned  my  aunt's  best  petticoat  into  a  waistcoat.  I 
disdained  at  eight  the  language  of  the  vulgar,  and  when  my 
father  asked  me  to  fetch  his  slippers,  I  replied,  that  my  soul 
swelled  beyond  the  limits  of  a  lackey's.  At  nine,  I  was  self-in- 
oculated with  propriety  of  ideas.  I  rejected  malt  with  the  air  of 
His  Majesty,  and  formed  a  violent  affection  for  maraschino  ; 
though  starving  at  school,  I  never  took  twice  of  pudding,  and 
paid  sixpence  a  week  out  of  my  shilling  to  have  my  shoes 
blacked.  As  I  grew  up,  my  notions  expanded.  I  gave  myself, 
without  restraint,  to  the  ambition  that  burnt  within  me — I  cut 
my  old  friends,  who  were  rather  envious  than  emulous  of  my 
genius,  and  I  employed  three  tradesmen  to  make  my  gloves — 
one  for  the  hand,  a  second  for  the  fingers,  and  a  third  for  the 
thumb  !  These  two  qualities  made  me  courted  and  admired  by 
a  new  race — for  the  great  secrets  of  being  courted  are  to  shun 
others,  and  seem  delighted  with  yourself.  The  latter  is  obvious 
enough  ;  who  the  deuce  sJiould  be  pleased  with  you,  if  you  are 
not  pleased  with  youself .'' 

"  Before  I  left  college  I  fell  in  love.  Other  fellows,  at  my 
age,  in  such  a  predicament,  would  have  whined — shaved  only 
twice  a  week,  and  written  verses.  I  did  none  of  the  three — the 
last  indeed  I  tried,  but,  to  my  infinite  surprise,  I  found  my 
genius  was  not  universal.     .1  began  with 

'  Sweet  nymph,  for  whom  I  wake  my  muse.* 

"  For  this,  after  considerable  hammering,  I  could  only  think 
of  the  rhyme  '  shoes  ' — so  I  began  again, — 

'Thy  praise  demands  much  softer  lutes.' 


AD  VENTURES  OF  A  GENTL  EM  AN.  1 1 5 

And  the  fellow  of  this  verse  terminated  like  myself  in  '  boots.' 
— Other  efforts  were  equally  successful — '  bloom  '  suggested  to 
my  imagination  no  rhyme  but  '  perfume  ! ' — '  despair  '  only  re- 
minded me  of  my  '  hair,' — and  '  hope  '  was  met,  at  the  end  of 
the  second  verse,  by  the  inharmonious  antithesis  of  '  soap.' 
Finding,  therefore,  that  my  forte  was  not  in  the  Pierian  line,  I 
redoubled  my  attention  to  my  dress  ;  I  coated  and  cravatted  with. 
all  the  attention  the  very  inspiration  of  my  rhymes  seemed  to 
advise ; — in  short,  I  thought  the  best  pledge  I  could  give  my 
Dulcinea  of  my  passion  for  her  person,  would  be  to  show  her 
what  affectionate  veneration  I  could  pay  to  my  own. 

"  My  mistress  could  not  withhold  from  me  her  admiration, 
but  she  denied  me  her  love.  She  confessed  Mr.  Russelton  was 
the  best-dressed  man  at  the  University,  and  had  the  whitest 
hands  ;  and  two  days  after  this  avowal,  she  ran  away  with  a  great 
rosy-cheeked  extract  from  Leicestershire. 

"  I  did  not  blame  her :  I  pitied  her  too  much — but  I  made  a 
vow  never  to  be  in  love  again.  In  spite  of  all  advantages  I 
kept  my  oath,  and  avenged  myself  on  the  species  for  the  insult 
of  the  individual. 

"  Before  I  commenced  a  part  which  was  to  continue  through 
life,  I  considered  deeply  on  the  humors  of  the  spectators.  I 
saw  that  the  character  of  the  more  fashionable  of  the  English 
was  servile  to  rank,  and  yielding  to  pretension — they  admire  you 
for  your  acquaintance,  and  cringe  to  you  for  your  conceit.  The 
first  thing,  therefore,  was  to  know  great  people — the  second  to 
control  them.  I  dressed  well,  and  had  good  horses — that  was 
sufficient  to  make  me  sought  by  the  young  of  my  own  sex.  I 
talked  scandal,  and  was  never  abashed — that  was  more  than 
enough  to  make  me  admired  among  the  matrons  of  the  other. 
It  is  single  men,  and  married  women,  to  whom  are  given  the  St. 
Peter's  keys  of  Society.  I  was  soon  admitted  into  its  heaven — • 
I  was  more — I  was  one  of  its  saints.  I  became  imitated  as  well 
as  initiated.  I  was  the  rage — the  lion.  Why  .^ — was  I  better — 
was  I  richer — was  I  handsomer — was  I  cleverer,  than  my  kind  .? 
No,  no ; — (and  here  Russelton  ground  his  teeth  with  a  strong 
and  wrathful  expression  of  scorn) ; — and  had  I  been  all — had  I 
been  a  very  concentration  and  monopoly  of  all  human  perfec- 
tions, they  would  not  have  valued  me  at  half  the  price  they  did 
set  on  me.  It  was — I  will  tell  you  the  simple  secret,  Mr.  Peh 
ham — it  was  because  I  trampled  on  t/ietn,  that,  like  crushed  herbs, 
they  sent  up  a  grateful  incense  in  return. 

"  Oh  !  it  was  balm  to  my  bitter  and  loathing  temper,  to  see 
those  who  would  have  spurned    me  from    them,  if  they    dared. 


Ii6  PELHAM;  OR, 

writhe  beneath  my  lash,  as  I  withheld  or  inflicted  it  at  will, 
I  was  the  magician  who  held  the  great  spirits  that  longed  to 
tear  me  to  pieces,  by  one  simple  spell  which  a  superior  har- 
dihood had  won  me — and,  by  Heaven,  I  did  not  spare  to  exert 
it. 

"  Well,  well,  this  is  but  an  idle  recollection  now ;  all  human 
power,  says  the  proverb  of  every  language,  is  but  of  short  dura- 
tion, Alexander  did  not  conquer  kingdoms  for  ever  ;  and  Rus- 
selton's  good  fortune  deserted  him  at  last.  Napoleon  died  in 
exile,  and  so  shall  I ;  but  we  have  both  had  our  day,  and  mine 
was  the  brightest  of  the  two,  for  it  had  no  change  till  the  evening, 
I  am  more  happy  than  people  would  think  for — -Je  ne  suis  pas 
souvent  ou  mon  corps  est — I  live  in  a  world  of  recollections,  I 
trample  again  upon  coronets  and  ermine,  the  glories  of  the 
small  great !  I  give  once  more  laws  which  no  libertine  is  so 
hardy  as  not  to  feel  exalted  in  adopting ;  I  hold  my  court  and 
issue  my  fiats  ;  I  am  like  the  madman,  and  out  of  the  very 
straws  of  my  cell,  I  make  my  subjects  and  my  realm  ;  and  when 
I  wake  from  these  bright  visions,  and  see  myself  an  old,  de- 
serted man,  forgotten,  and  decaying  inch  by  inch  in  a  foreign 
village,  I  can  at  least  summon  sufficient  of  my  ancient  regality 
of  spirit  not  to  sink  beneath  the  reverse.  If  I  am  inclined  to  be 
melancholy,  wiiy,  I  extinguish  my  fire,  and  imagine  1  have  de- 
molished a  duchess.  I  steal  up  to  my  solitary  chamber,  to  re- 
new again,  in  iny  sleep,  the  phantoms  of  my  youth ;  to  carouse 
with  princes  ;  to  legislate  for  nobles  ;  and  to  wake  in  the  morn- 
mg  (here  Russelton's  countenance  and  manner  suddenly 
changed  to  an  affectation  of  methodistical  gravity),  and  thank 
Heaven  that  I  have  still  a  coat  to  my  stomach,  as  well  as  to  my 
back,  and  that  I  am  safely  delivered  of  such  villanous  company  ; 
'  to  forswear  sack  and  live  cleanly,'  during  the  rest  of  my  sub- 
lunary existence." 

After  this  long  detail  of  Mr.  Russelton's,  the  conversation 
was  but  dull  and  broken.  I  could  not  avoid  indulging  a  reverie 
upon  what  I  had  heard,  and  my  host  was  evidently  still  revolv- 
ing the  recollections  his  narration  had  conjured  up;  we  sat  op- 
posite each  other  for  several  minutes,  as  abstracted  and  distracted 
as  if  we  had  been  a  couple  two  months  married;  till  at  last  I 
rose,  and  tendered  my  adieus.  Russelton  received  them  with 
his  usual  coldness,  but  more  than  his  usual  civility,  for  he  fol- 
lowed me  to  the  door. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  shut  it,  he  called  me  back.  "  Mr. 
Pelham,"  said  he,  "  Mr.  Pelham,  when  you  come  back  this  way, 
do  look  in  upon    me,  and — and  as  you  will  be  going  a  good 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  117 

deal  into  society,  just  find  cut  what  people  say  of  my  manner  oj 
life!  "' 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

An  old  worshipful  gentleman,  that  had  a  great  estate, 
And  kept  a  brave  old  house  at  a  hospitable  rate. 

Otd  Song 

I  THINK  I  may,  wiihout  much  loss  to  the  reader,  pass  in  silence 
over  my  voyage,  the  next  day,  to  Dover.  (Horrible  remi- 
niscence !)  I  may  also  spare  him  an  exact  detail  of  all  the  inns 
and  impositions  between  that  sea-port  and  London  ;  nor  will  it 
be  absolutely  necessary  to  the  plot  of  this  history,  to  linger  over 
every  mile-stone  between  the  metropolis  and  Glenmorris  Castle, 
where  my  uncle  and  my  mother  were  impatiently  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  candidate  to  be. 

It  was  was  a  fine  bright  evening  when  my  carriage  entered 
the  park.  I  had  not  seen  the  place  for  years  ;  and  I  felt  my 
heart  swell  with  something  like  family  pride,  as  I  gazed  on  the 
magnificent  extent  of  hill  and  plain  that  opened  upon  me,  as  I 
passed  the  ancient  and  ivy-covered  lodge.  Large  groups  of 
trees,  scattered  on  either  side,  seemed,  in  their  own  antiquity 
the  witness  of  that  of  the  family  which  had  given  them  existence. 
The  sun  set  on  the  waters  which  lay  gathered  in  a  lake  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  breaking  the  waves  into  unnumbered  sapphires, 
and  tinging  the  dark  firs  that  overspread  the  margin,  with  a  rich 
and  golden  light,  that  put  me  excessively  in  mind  of  the  Duke 
of -'s  livery  ! 

When  I  descended  at  the  gate,  the  servants,  who  stood  ar- 
ranged in  an  order  so  long  that  it  almost  startled  me,  received 
me  with  a  visible  gladness  and  animation,  which  showed  me,  at 
one  glance,  the  old-fashioned  tastes  of  their  master.  Who,  in 
these  days,  ever  inspires  his  servants  with  a  single  sentiment  of 
regard  or  interest  for  himself  or  his  whole  race  ?  That  tribe 
one  never,  indeed,  considers  as  possessing  a  life  separate  from 
their  service  to  us  :  beyond  that  purpose  of  existence,  we  know 
not  even  if  they  exist.  As  Providence  made  the  stars  for  the 
benefit  of  earth,  so  it  made  servants  for  the  use  of  gentlemen; 
and,  as  neither  stars  nor  servants  appear  except  when  we  want 

*  It  will  be  perceived  by  those  readers  who  are  kind  or  patient  enou(fh  to  reach  the 
conclusion  of  this  work,  that  Russelton  is  specified  as  one  of  my  few  dramatis  personae 
of  which  only  the  first  outline  is  taken  from  real  life,  and  from  a  very  noted  person- 
age ;  all  the  rest—all,  indeed,  which  forms  and  marks  the  character  thus  briefly  deline- 
ated, is  drawn  solely  from  imagination. 


iiS  PELHAM;  OR, 

them,  so  I  suppose  they  are  in  a  sort  of  suspense  from  being,  ex- 
cept at  those  important  and  hap^y  moments. 

To  return — for  if  I  have  any  fault,  it  is  to  great  a  love  for  ab- 
struse speculation  and  reflection — I  was  formally  ushered 
thiough  a  great  hall,  hung  round  with  huge  antlers  and  rusty  ar- 
mor, through  a  lesser  one,  supported  by  large  stone  columns,  and 
without  any  other  adornment  than  the  arms  of  the  family  ;  then 
through  an  ante-room,  covered  with  tapestry,  representing  the 
gallantries  of  King  Solomon  to  the  Queen  of  Sheba  ;  and  lastly, 
into  the  apartment  honored  by  the  august  presence  of  Lord 
Glenmorris.  That  personage  was  dividing  the  sofa  with  three 
spaniels  and  a  setter ;  he  rose  hastily  when  I  was  announced, 
and  then  checking  the  first  impulse  which  hurried  him,  perhaps, 
into  an  unseemly  warmth  of  salutation,  held  out  his  hand  with  a 
stately  air  of  kindly  protection,  and  while  he  pressed  mine  sur- 
veyed me  from  head  to  foot,  to  see  how  far  my  appearance 
justified  his  condescension. 

Having,  at  last,  satisfied  himself,  he  proceeded  to  inquire 
after  the  state  of  my  appetite.  He  smiled  benignantly  when 
I  confessed  that  I  was  excessively  well  prepared  to  testify  its 
capacities  (the  first  idea  of  all  kind-hearted,  old-fashioned 
peojDle,  is  to  stuff  you),  and,  silently  motioning  to  the  grey-headed 
servant  who  stood  in  attendance,  till,  receiving  the  expected  sign, 
he  withdrew.  Lord  Glenmorris  informed  me  that  dinner  was  over 
for  every  one  but  myself,  that  for  me  it  would  be  prepared  in  an 
instant,  that  Mr.  Toolington  had  expired  four  days  since,  that 
my  mother  was  at  that  moment  canvassing  for  me,  and  that  ni}* 
own  electioneering  qualities  were  to  open  their  exhibition  with  the 
following  day. 

After  this  communication  there  was  a  short  pause.  "  What 
a  beautiful  place  this  is  !  "  said  I,  with  great  enthusiasm.  Lord 
Glenmorris  was  pleased  with  the  compliment,  simple  as  it  was. 

"  Yes,  "  said  he,  "  it  is,  and  I  have  made  it  still  more  so  than 
you  have  3'et  been  able  to  perceive." 

"  You  have  been  planting,  probablv,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
park  ? " 

"  No,"  said  my  uncle,  smiling  ;  "  Nature  had  done  every 
thing  for  this  spot  when  I  came  to  it,  but  one  ;  and  the  addition 
of  that  one  ornament  is  the  only  real  triumph  which  art  ever 
can  achieve." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  I ;   "  oh,  I  know — water." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  answered  Lord  Glenmorris  ;  "  it  is  the 
ornament  of — happy  faces.  " 

I  looked  up  to  my  uncle's  countenance  in  sudden  surprise.    I 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  119 

cannot  explain  how  I  was  struck  with  the  expression  which  it 
wore  :  so  cahnly  bright  and  open  ! — it  was  as  if  the  very  day- 
light had  settled  there. 

"You  don't  understand  this  at  present,  Henry,"  said  he, 
after  a  moment's  silence",  "but  you  will  find  it,  of  all  rules  for 
the  improvement  of  property,  the  easiest  to  learn.  Enough  of 
this  now.     Were  you  not  in  despair  at  leaving  Paris  1  " 

"  I  should  have  been,  some  months  ago ;  but  when  I  received 
my  mother's  summons,  I  found  the  temptations  of  the  continent 
very  light  in  comparison  with  those  held  out  to  me  here." 

"  What,  have  you  already  arrived  at  that  great  epoch,  when 
vanity  casts  off  '\X.%  first  skin,  and  ambition  succeeds  to  pleasure  ! 
Why — but  thank  Heaven  that  you  have  lost  my  moral — your 
dinner  is  announced." 

Most  devoutly  did  I  thank  Heaven,  and  most  earnestly  did  I 
betake  myself  to  do  honor  to  my  uncle's  hospitality. 

I  had  just  finished  my  repast,  when  my  mother  entered.  She 
was,  as  you  might  well  expect  from  her  maternal  affection,  quite 
overpowered  with  joy,  first,  at  finding  my  hair  grown  so  much 
darker,  and,  secondly  at  my  looking  so  well.  We  spent  the 
whole  evening  in  discussing  the  great  business  for  which  I  had 
been  summoned.  Lord  Glenmorris  promised  me  money,  and 
my  mother  advice  ;  and  I,  in  my  turn,  enchanted  them,  by  prom- 
ising to  make  the  best  use  of  both. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Cor,     Your  good  voice,  sir — what  say  you! 

ind  Cit.     You  shall  have  it,  worthy  sir. — Coriolamis. 

The  borough  of  Buyemall  had  long  been  in  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  the  Lords  of  Glenmorris,  till  a  rich  banker,  of  the  name 
of  Lufton,  had  bought  a  large  estate  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood of  Glenmorris  Castle.  This  event,  which  was  the  precursor 
of  a  miglUy  revolution  in  the  borough  of  Buyemall,  took  place  in 
the  first  year  of  my  uncle's  accession  to  his  property.  A  few 
months  afterwards,  a  vacancy  in  the  borough  occurring,  my  uncle 
procured  the  nomination  of  one  of  his  own  political  party.  To 
the  great  astonishment  of  Lord  (iiciunorris,  and  the  great  grati- 
fication of  the  burghers  of  Buyemall,  Mr.  Lufton  offered  him- 
self in  opposition  to  the  Glenmorris  candidate.  In  this  age  of 
enlightenment,  innovation  has  no  respect  for  the   most   sacred 


120  PELHAM ;  OR, 

institutions  of  antiquity.  .  The  burghers,  for  the  only  time  since 
their  creation  as  a  body,  were  cast  first  into  doubt,  and  secondly 
into  rebellion.  The  Lufton  faction,  horresco  referens,  were  tri- 
umphant, and  the  rival  candidate  was  returned.  From  that 
hour,  the  Borough  of  Buyemall  was  open  to  all  the  world. 

My  uncle,  who  was  a  good  easy  man,  and  had  some  strange 
notions  of  free  representation,  and  liberty  of  election,  professed 
to  care  very  little  for  this  event.  He  contented  himself,  hence- 
forward, with  exerting  his  interest  for  one  of  the  members,  and 
left  the  other  seat  entirely  at  the  disposal  of  the  line  of  Lufton, 
which,  from  the  time  of  the  first  competition,  continued  peacea- 
bly to  monopolize  it. 

During  the  last  two  years,  my  uncle's  candidate,  the  late  Mr. 
Toolington,  had  been  gradually  dying  of  a  dropsy,  and  the  Luf- 
tons  had  been  so  particularly  attentive  to  the  honest  burghers, 
that  it  was  shrewdly  suspected  a  bold  push  was  to  made  for  the 
other  seat.  During  the  last  month  these  doubts  were  changed 
into  certainty.  Mr.  Augustus  Leopold  Lufton,  eldest  son  to 
Benjamin  Lufton,  Esq.,  had  publicly  declared  his  intention  of 
starting  at  the  decease  of  Mr.  Toolington  ;  against  this  person- 
age behold  myself  armed  and  arrayed. 

Such  is,  in  brief,  the  history  of  the  borough,  up  to  the  time  in 
which  I  was  to  take  a  prominent  share  in  its  interests  and  events. 

On  the  second  day  after  my  arrival  at  the  castle,  the  follow- 
ing advertisement  appeared  at  Buyemall  : — 

"  To  the  Independent  Electors  of  the  Borough  of  Buyemall. 

"  Gentlemen, 

"  In  presenting  myself  to  your  notice,  I  advance  a  claim  not 
altogether  new  and  unfounded.  My  family  have  for  centuries 
been  residing  amongst  you,  and  exercising  that  interest  which 
reciprocal  confidence,  and  good  offices,  may  fairly  create.  Should 
it  be  my  good  fortune  to  be  chosen  your  representative,  you  may 
rely  upon  my  utmost  endeavors  to  deserve  that  honor.  One 
word  upon  the  principles  I  espouse  :  they  are  those  which  have 
found  their  advocates  among  the  wisest  and  the  best :  they  are 
those  which,  hostile  alike  to  the  encroachments  of  the  crown 
and  the  licentiousness  of  the  people,  would  support  the  real  in- 
terests of  both.  Upon  these  grounds,  gentlemen,  I  have  the 
honor  to  solicit  your  votes  ;  and  it  is  with  the  sincerest  respect 
for  your  ancient  and  honorable  body,  that  I  subscribe  myself 
your  very  obedient  servant, 

"  Henry  Pelham. 

"  Glenmorris  Castle,  etc.,  etc." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLE MAiV.  121 

Such  was  the  first  public  signification  of  my  intentions ;  it 
was  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Sharpon,  our  lawyer,  and  considered  by 
our  friends  as  a  masterpiece  :  for,  as  my  mother  sagely  observed, 
it  did  not  commit  me  in  a  single  instance — espoused  no  princi- 
ple, and  yet  professed  principles  which  all  parties  would  allow 
were  the  best- 

At  the  first  house  where  I  called,  the  proprietor  was  a  clergy 
man  of  good  family,  who  had  married  a  lad}'  from  Baker-street : 
of  course  the  Reverend  Combermere  St.  Quintin  and  his  wife 
valued  themselves  upon  being  '■'■genteel.'"  I  arrived  at  an  un- 
lucky moment ;  on  entering  the  hall,  a  dirty  footboy  was  carry- 
ing a  yellow-ware  dish  of  potatoes  into  the  back  room.  Another 
Ganymede  (a  sort  of  footboy-major),  who  opened  the  door,  and 
who  was  still  '■^settling  himself  into  his  coat,"  which  he  had  slipped 
on  at  my  tintinnabulary  summons,  ushered  me  with  a  mouth  full 
of  bread  and  cheese  into  this  said  back  room.  I  gave  up  every- 
thing as  lost,  when  I  entered,  and  saw  the  lady  helping  her  young- 
est child  to  some  ineffable  trash,  which  I  have  since  heard  is 
called  "blackberry  pudding."  Another  of  the  tribe  was  bawling 
out,  with  a  loud,  hungry  tone — "  A  tatoe,  pa  ! "  The  father 
himself  was  carving  for  the  little  group,  with  a  napkin  stuffed 
into  the  top  button-hole  of  his  waistcoat ;  and  the  mother,  with 
a  long  bib,  plentifully  bespattered  with  congealing  gravy,  an-i 
the  nectarian  liquor  of  the  "  blackberry  pudding,"  was  sitting, 
with  a  sort  of  presiding  complacency,  on  a  high  stool,  like  Juno 
on  Olympus,  enjoying  rather  than  stilling  the  confused  hubbub 
of  the  little  domestic  deities,  who  ate,  clattered,  spattered,  and 
squabbled  around  her. 

Amidst  all  this  din  and  confusion,  the  candidate  for  the  borough 
of  Buyemall  was  ushered  into  the  household  privacy  of  the  gen- 
teel Mr.  and  Mrs.  St.  Quintin.  Up  started  the  lady  at  the  sound 
of  my  name.  The  Rev.  Combermere  St.  Quintin  seemed  frozen 
into  stone.  The  plate  between  the  youngest  child  and  the  black- 
berry pudding  stood  as  still  as  the  sun  in  Ajalon.  The  morsel 
between  the  mouth  of  the  elder  boy  and  his  fork  had  a  respite 
from  mastication.  The  Seven  Sleepers  could  not  have  been 
spell-bound  more  suddenly  and  completely. 

*'  Ah,''  cried  I,  advancing  eagerly,  with  an  air  of  serious  and 
yet  abrupt  gladness ;  "  how  lucky  that  I  should  find  you  all  at 
luncheon.  I  was  up  and  had  finished  breakfast  so  early  this 
morning  that  I  am  half  famished.  Only  think  how  fortunate, 
Hardy,  (turning  round  to  one  of  the  members  of  my  committee, 
who  accompanied  me) ;  I  was  just  saying  what  would  I  not  give 


122  PELHAM ;  OR, 

to  find  Mr.  St.  Quintin  at  luncheon.  Will  you  allow  me,  Madam, 
to  make  one  of  your  party  .''  " 

Mrs.  St.  Quintin  colored  and  faltered,  and  muttered  out  some- 
thing which  I  was  fully  resolved  not  to  hear.  I  took  a  chair, 
looked  round  the  table,  not  too  attentively,  and  said — "  Cold 
veal ;  ah  !  ah  !  nothing  I  like  so  much.  May  I  trouble  you,  Mr. 
St.  Quintin  ? — Hollo,  my  little  man,  let's  see  if  you  can't  give  me 
a  potato.  There's  a  brave  fellow.  How  old  are  3^ou,  my  young 
hero  ? — to  look  at  your  mother,  I  should  say  two,  to  look  at  ^ou, 
six." 

"  He  is  four  next  May,"  said  his  mother,  coloring,  and  this 
time  not  painful  1}-. 

"  Indeed !  "  said  I,  surveying  him  earnestly ;  and  then,  in  a 
graver  tone,  I  turned  to  the  Rev.  Combermere  with — "  I  think 
you  have  a  branch  of  your  family  still  settled  in  France.  I  met 
a  St.  Quintin  (the  Due  de  Poictiers)  abroad." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Combermere,  "  yes,  the  name  is  still  in  Nor- 
mandy, but  I  was  not  aware  of  the  title." 

"  No  !  "  said  I,  with  surprise  ;  "  and  yet  (with  another  look  at 
the  boy),  it  is  astonishing  how  long  family  likenesses  last.  I  was 
a  great  favorite  with  all  the  Diii^'s  children.  Do  you  know,  I 
must  trouble  you  for  some  more  veal,  it  is  so  very  good,  and  I 
am  so  very  hungr}'." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  abroad  ? "  said  Mrs.  St.  Quintin, 
who  had  slipped  off  her  bib,  and  smoothed  her  ringlets  ;  for 
which  purposes  I  had  been  most  adroitly  looking  in  an  opposite 
direction  the  last  three  minutes. 

"  About  seven  or  eight  months.  The  fact  is,  that  the  continent 
only  does  for  us  English  people  to  see — not  to  inhabit ;  and  yet, 
there  are  some  advantages  there,  Mr.  St.  Quintin  ! — among  others, 
that  of  the  clue  respect  ancient  birth  is  held  in.  Here,  you  know, 
'  money  makes  the  man,'  as  the  vulgar  proverb  has  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  St.  Quintin,  with  a  sigh,  "it  is  really  dreadful 
to  see  those  upstarts  rising  around  us,  and  throwing  every  thing 
that  is  respectable  and  ancient  in  to  the  back  ground.  Dangerous 
times  these,  Mr.  Pelham — dangerous  times  ;  nothing  but  inno- 
vation upon  the  most  sacred  institutions.  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Pelham, 
that  your  principles  must  be  decidedly  against  these  new-fash- 
ioned doctrines,  which  lead  to  nothing  but  anarchy  and  confusion 
— absolutely  nothing." 

"I'm  delighted  to  find  you  so  much  of  my  opinion  !  "  said  I. 
"  I  cannot  endure  anything  that  leads  to  aiiarchy  and  confusiony 

Here  Mr.  Combermere  glanced  at  his  wife, — who  rose,  called 
to  the  children,  and,  accompanied  by  them,  gracefully  withdrew. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  123 

"  Now  then,"  said  Mr.  Combermere,  drawing  his  chair  nearer 
to  me, — "  now,  Mr.  Pelham,  we  can  discuss  these  matters.  Wo- 
men are  no  politicians," — and  at  this  sage  aphorism,  the  Rev. 
Combemiere  laughed  a  low  solemn  laugh,  which  could  have  come 
from  no  other  lips.  After  I  had  joined  in  this  grave  merriment 
for  a  second  or  two,  I  hemmed  thrice,  and  with  a  countenance 
suited  to  the  subject  and  the  host,  plunged  at  once  in  medias 
res. 

"Mr.  St.  Quintin,"  said  I,  "you  are  already  aware,  I  think, 
of  my  intention  of  offering  myself  as  a  candidate  for  the  borough 
of  Buyemall.  I  could  not  think  of  such  a  measure,  without  call- 
ing upon  you,  the  very,  first  person,  to  solicit  the  honor  of  your 
vote."  Mr.  Combermere  looked  pleased,  and  prepared  to  reply. 
"You  are  the  very  first  person  I  called  upon,"  repeated  I. 

Mr.  Combermere  smiled.  "  Well,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  he,  "  our 
families  have  long  been  on  the  most  intimate  footing." 

"Ever  since,"  cried  I,  "  ever  since  Henry  the  Seventh's  time, 
have  the  houses  of  St.  Quintin  and  Glenmorris  been  allied  ! 
Your  ancestors,  you  know,  were  settled  in  the  county  before 
ours,  and  my  mother  assures  me  that  she  has  read,  in  some  old 
book  or  another,  a  long  account  of  your  forefather's  kind  recep- 
tion of  mine  at  the  castle  of  St.  Quintin.  I  do  trust,  sir,  that  we 
have  done  nothing  to  forfeit  a  support  so  long  afforded  us." 

Mr.  Quintin  bowed  in  speechless  gratification ;  at  length  he 
found  voice.     "  But  your  principles,  Mr.  Pelham  ?  " 

"  Quite  your's,  my  dear  sir ;  quite  against  anarchy  and  confu^ 
sion.'" 

"  But  the  Catholic  question,  Mr.  Pelham  ?  " 

"Oh!  the  Catholic  question,"  repeated  I,  "is  a  question  of 
great  importance;  it  won't  be  carried — no,  Mr.  St.  Quintin,  no, 
it  won't  be  carried  ;  how  did  you  think,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  could, 
in  so  great  a  question,  act  against  my  conscience  ?" 

I  said  this  with  warmth,  and  Mr.  St.  Quintin  was  either  too 
convinced  or  too  timid  to  pursue  so  dangerous  a  topic  any  further. 
I  blessed  my  stars  when  he  paused,  and,  not  giving  him  time  to 
think  of  anr)ther  piece  of  debatable  ground,  continued, — "Yes, 
Mr.  St.  Quintin,  1  called  upon  you  the  very  first  person.  Your 
rank  in  the  county,  your  ancient  birth,  to  be  sure,  demanded  it ; 
but  /only  considered  the  long,  long  time  the  St.  Quintins  and 
Pelhams  had  been  connected." 

"Well,"  said  the  Rev.  Combermere,  "well,  Mr.  Pelham,  you 
shall  have  my  support ;  and  I  wish,  from  my  very  heart,  all  suc- 
cess to  a  young  gentleman  of  such  exxellent  principles." 


124  PELHAM ;  OR, 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

More  voices ! 

■5|6-  -iif  -3^  Tlf  Jk  ^ 

Sic.     How  now,  my  masters,  have  you  chosen  him  ? 
Cit     He  has  our  voices,  sir  !  — Coriolanus. 

From  Mr.  Combermere  St.  Qiiintin's  we  went  to  a  bluff, 
hearty,  radical  wine-merchant,  whom  I  had  very  little  probabil- 
ity of  gaining ;  but  my  success  with  the  clerical  Armado  had 
inspirited  me,  and  I  did  not  suffer  myself  to  fear,  though  1  could 
scarcely  persuade  myself  to  hope.  How  exceedingly  impossible 
it  is,  in  governing  men,  to  lay  down  positive  rules,  even  where 
we  know  the  temper  of  the  individual  to  be  gained  !  "  You  must 
be  very  stiff  and  formal  with  the  St.  Quintins,"  said  my  mother. 
She  was  right  in  the  general  admonition,  and  had  I  found  them 
all  seated  in  the  best  drawing-room,  Mrs.  St.  Quintin  in  her  best 
attire,  and  the  children  on  their  best  behavior,  I  should  have 
been  as  stately  as  Don  Quixote  in  a  brocade  dressing-gown ; 
but  finding  them  in  such  dishabille,  I  could  not  affect  too  great 
a  plainness  and  almost  coarseness  of  bearing,  as  if  I  had  never 
been  accustomed  to  anything  more  refined  than  I  found  there; 
nor  might  I,  by  any  appearance  of  pride  in  myself,  put  them  in 
mind  of  the  wound  their  own  pride  had  received.  The  difficulty 
was  to  blend  with  this  familiarity  a  certain  respect,  just  the  same 
as  a  French  ambassador  might  have  testified  towards  the  august 
person  of  George  the  Third,  had  he  found  his  Majesty  at  din- 
ner at  one  o'clock,  over  mutton  and  turnips. 

In  overcoming  this  difficulty,  I  congratulated  myself  with  as 
much  zeal  and  fervor  as  if  I  had  performed  the  most  important 
victory  ;  for,  whether  it  be  innocent  or  sanguinary,  in  war  or  at 
an  election,  there  is  no  triumph  so  gratifying  to  the  viciousness 
of  human  nature,  as  the  conquest  of  our  fellow  beings. 

But  I  must  return  to  my  wine-merchant,  Mr.  Briggs,  His 
house  was  at  the  entrance  of  the  town  of  Buyemall ;  it  stood 
enclosed  in  a  small  garden,  flaming  with  crocuses  and  sunflowers, 
and  exhibiting  an  arbor  to  the  right,  where,  in  the  summer 
evenings,  the  respectable  owner  might  be  seen,  with  his  waist- 
coat unbuttoned,  in  order  to  give  that  just  and  rational  liberty  to 
the  subordinate  parts  of  the  human  commonwealth  which  the 
increase  of  their  consequence,  after  the  hour  of  dinner,  naturally 
demands.  Nor,  in  those  moments  of  dignified  ease,  was  the 
worthy  burgher  without  the  divine  inspirations  of  complacent 
contemplation  which  the  weed  of  Virginia  bestoweth.     There, 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  125 

as  he  smoked  and  puffed,  and  looked  out  upon  the  bright  cro- 
cuses, and  meditated  over  the  dim  recollections  of  the  hesternal 
journal,  did  Mr.  Briggs  revolve  ir  his  mind  the  vast  importance 
of  the  borough  of  Buyemall  to  the  British  empire,  and  the  vast 
importance  of  John  Briggs  to  the  borough  of  Buj'emall, 

When  I  knocked  at  the  door  a  prettyish  maid-servant  opened 
it  with  a  smile,  and  a  glance  which  the  vendor  of  wine  might 
probably  have  taught  her  himself  after  too  large  potations  of  his 
own  spirituous  manufactures.  I  was  ushered  into  a  small  parlor 
— where  sat,  sipping  brandy  and  water,  a  short,  stout  monosyl- 
labic sort  of  figure,  corresponding  in  outward  shape  to  the  name 
of  Briggs — even  unto  a  very  nicety. 

"  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  this  gentleman,  who  was  dressed  in  a 
brown  coat,  white  waistcoat,  buff-colored  inexpressibles,  with 
long  strings,  and  gaiters  of  the  same  hue  and  substance  as  the 
breeches — "  Mr.  Pelham,  pray  be  seated — excuse  my  rising,  I'm 
like  the  bishop  in  the  story,  Mr.  Pelham,  too  old  to  rise  ; "  and 
Mr.  Briggs  grunted  out  a  short,  quick,  querulous,  "he — he — he," 
to  which,  of  course,  I  replied  to  the ,  best  of  my  cachinnatory 
powers. 

No  sooner,  however,  did  I  begin  to  laugh,  than  Mr.  Briggs 
stopped  short — eyed  me  with  a  sharp,  suspicious  glance — shook 
his  head,  and  pushed  back  his  chair  at  least  four  feet  from  the 
spot  it  had  hitherto  occupied.  Ominous  signs,  thought  I — I 
must  sound  this  gentleman  a  little  further,  before  I  venture  to 
treat  him  as  the  rest  of  his  species. 

"  You  have  a  nice  situation  here,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Pelham,  and  a  nice  vote  too,  which  is  somewhat 
more  to  your  purpose,  I  believe." 

"Why,"  said  I,  "Mr.  Briggs,  to  be  frank  with  you,  I  do  call 
upon  you  for  the  purpose  of  requesting  your  vote  ;  give  it  me,  or 
not,  just  as  you  please.  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  not  make  use 
of  the  vulgar  electioneering  arts  to  coax  gentlemen  out  of  their 
votes.  I  ask  you  for  your's  as  one  freeman  solicits  another  :  if 
you  think  my  opponent  a  fitter  person  to  represent  your  borough, 
give  your  support  to  him  in  Heaven's  name  :  if  not,  and  you 
place  confidence  in  me,  I  will,  at  least,  endeavor  not  to  betray 
it." 

"  Well  done,  Mr.  Pelham,"  exclaimed  Mr,  Briggs  :  "  I  love 
candor — you  speak  just  after  my  own  heart ;  but  you  must  be 
aware  that  one  does  not  like  to  be  bamboozled  out  of  one's  right 
of  election,  by  a  smooth-tongued  fellow,  who  sends  one  to  the 
devil  the  moment  the  election  is  over — or  still  worse,  to  be 
frightened  out  of  it  by  some  stilf-necked  proud  co.\comb,  with  his 


126  PELHAM;  OR, 

pedigree  in  his  hand,  and  his  acres  in  his  face,  thinking  he  does 
you  a  marvellous  honor  to  ask  you  at  all.  Sad  times  these  for 
this  free  country,  Mr,  Pelham,  when  a  parcel  of  conceited  pau- 
pers, like  Parson  Quinny  (as  I  call  that  reverend  fool,  Mr. 
Combermere  St.  Quintin),  imagine  they  have  a  right  to  dictate  to 
warm,  honest  men,  who  can  buy  their  whole  family  out  and  out. 
I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Pelham,  we  shall  never  do  anything  for  this 
country  till  we  get  rid  of  those  landed  aristocrats,  with  their 
ancestry  and  humbug.     I  hope  you're  of  my  mind,  Mr.  Pelham." 

"  Why,"  answered  I,  "there  is  certainly  nothing  so  respectable 
in  Great  Britain  as  our  commercial  interest.  A  man  who  makes 
himself  is  worth  a  thousand  men  made  by  their  forefathers." 

"Very  true,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  the  wine-merchant,  advancing 
his  chair  to  me  ;  and  then,  laying  a  short,  thickset  finger  upon  my 
arm — he  looked  up  in  my  face  with  an  investigating  air,  and  said  : 
■ — "  Parliamentary  Reform — what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  you're  not 
an  advocate  for  ancient  abuses  and  modern  corruption,  I  hope, 
Mr.  Pelham  ?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  cried  I,  with  an  honest  air  of  indignation — 
"  I  have  a  conscience,  Mr.  Briggs,  I  have  a  conscience  as  a 
public  man,  no  less  than  as  a  private  one  ! " 

"  Admirable  !  "  cried  my  host. 

"  No,"  I  continued,  glowing  as  I  proceeded,  "  no>  Mr  Briggs 
I  disdain  to  talk  too  much  about  my  principles  before  they  are 
tried ;  the  proper  time  to  proclaim  them  is  \\hen  they  have 
effected  some  good  by  being  put  into  action.  I  won't  supplicate 
your  vote,  Mr.  Briggs,  as  my  opponent  may  do ;  there  must  be  a 
mutual  confidence  between  my  supporters  and  myself.  When 
I  appear  before  you  a  second  time,  you  will  have  a  right  to  see 
how  far  I  have  wronged  that  trust  reposed  in  me  as  your  repre- 
sentative. Mr.  Briggs,  I  dare  say  it  may  seem  rude  and  impoli- 
tic to  address  you  in  this  manner ;  but  I  am  a  plain,  blunt  man, 
and  I  disdain  the  vulgar  arts  of  electioneering,  Mr.  Briggs." 

"  Give  us  your  fist,  sir,"  cried  the  wine-merchant,  in  a  trans- 
port ;  "  give  us  your  fist ;  I  promise  you  my  support,  and  I  am 
delighted  to  vote  for  a  young  gentleman  of  such  excelktit  J)rmci- 
plesr 

So  much,  dear  reader,  for  Mr.  Briggs,  who  became  from  that 
interview  my  staunchest  supporter.  I  will  not  linger  longer 
upon  this  part  of  my  career :  the  above  conversations  may  serve 
as  a  sufficient  sample  of  my  electioneering  qualifications  :  and 
so  I  shall  merely  add,  that  after  the  due  quantum  of  dining, 
drinking,  spouting,  lying,  equivocating,  bribing,  rioting,  head- 
breaking,  promise-breaking,  and — thank  the  god  Mercury,  who 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAiV.  127 

presides  over  elections — chairing  of  successful  candidateship,  I 
found  myself  fairly  chosen  member  for  the  borough  of  Buy- 
emall !  * 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Political  education  is  like  the  keystone  to  the  arch — the  strength  of  the 
whole  depends  upon  it. — Encycl.  Britt.  Sup.  Art.  Education. 

I  WAS  sitting  in  the  library  of  Glenmorris  Castle,  about  a 
week  after  all  the  bustle  of  contest  and  the  eclat  of  victory  had 
begun  to  subside,  and  quietly  dallying  with  the  dry  toast,  which 
constituted  then,  and  does  to  this  day,  my  ordinary  breakfast, 
when  I  was  accosted  by  the  following  speech  from  my  uncle  : — 

"  Henry,  your  success  has  opened  to  you  a  new^career :  I  trust 
you  intend  to  pursue  it  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  was  my  answer. 

"  But  do  you  know,  my  dear  Henry,  that  though  you  have 
great  talents,  which,  I  confess,  I  was  surprised  in  the  course  of 
the  election  to  discover,  yet  they  want  that  careful  cultivation, 
which,  in  order  to  shine  in  the  House  of  Commons,  they  must 
receive.  Entre  nous,  Henry ;  a  little  reading  would  do  you  no 
harm." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I,  "  suppose  I  begin  with  Walter  Scott's 
novels  ;  I  am  told  they  are  extremely  entertaining." 

"  True,"  answered  my  uncle,  "  but  they  don't  contain  the 
most  accurate  notions  of  history,  or  the  soundest  principles  of 
political  philosophy  in  the  world.  What  did  you  think  of  doing 
to-day,  Heniy  ? " 

^^  Not/ling.'"  said  I,  very  innocently. 

"  I  should  conceive  that  to  be  an  usual  answer  of  yours, 
Henry,  to  any  similar  question." 

"  I  think  it  is,"  replied  I,  with  great  naivct(^. 

"  Well,  then,  let  us  have  the  breakfast  things  taken  away, 
and  do  sotncthing  this  morning." 

"Willingly,"  said  I,  ringing  the  bell. 

The  table  was  cleared,  and  my  uncle  began  his  examination. 

♦  It  is  fortunate  that  Mr.  Pelham's  election  was  not  for  a  rotten  borough  ;  so  that 
the  satire  of  this  chapter  is  not  yet  obsolete  nor  unsalutary.  Parliamentary  Reform 
has  not  terminated  the  triclis  of  canvassing— and  Mr.  Pelham's  descriptions  are  as 
applicable  now  as  when  first  written.  All  personal  canvassing  is  but  for'lhe  conven- 
ience of  cunning — the  opportunity  for  manner  to  disguise  principle.  Public  meetings, 
in  which  expositions  of  opinion  must  be  clear,  and  will  be  cross-exarnined,  arc  the 
only  legitimate  mode  of  canvass.  The  English  begin  to  discover  this  truth  ;  may 
these  scenes  serve  to  quicken  their  apprehension. — The  Author. 


12S  PELHAM;  OR, 

Little,  poor  man,  had  he  thought,  from  my  usual  bearing,  and 
the  character  of  my  education,  that  in  general  literature  there 
were  few  subjects  on  which  I  was  not  to  the  full  as  well  read  as 
himself.  I  enjoyed  his  surprise,  when,  little  by  little,  he  began 
to  discover  the  extent  of  my  information  ;  but  I  was  mortified 
to  find  it  was  only  surprise,  7iot  delight. 

"  You  have,"  said  he,  "  a  considerable  store  of  learning  :  far 
more  than  I  could  possibly  have  imagined  you  possessed  ;  but 
it  is  k?iowledge,  not  learning,  in  which  I  wish  you  to  be  skilled. 
I  would  rather,  in  order  to  gift  you  with  the  former,  that  you 
were  more  destitute  of  the  latter.  The  object  of  education  is  to 
instil  principles  which  are  hereafter  to  guide  and  instruct  us  ; 
fads  are  only  desirable,  so  far  as  they  illustrate  those  principles  ; 
principles  ought  therefore  to  precede  facts  !  What  then  can  we 
think  of  a  system  which  reverses  this  evident  order,  overloads 
the  memory  with  facts,  and  those  of  the  most  doubtful  descrip- 
tion, while  it  leaves  us  entirely  in  the  dark  with  regard  to  the 
principles  which  could  alone  render  this  heterogeneous  mass  of 
any  advantage  or  avail  ?  Learning,  without  knowledge,  is  but 
a  bundle  of  prejudices  ;  a  lumber  of  inert  matter  set  before  the 
threshold  of  the  understanding  to  the  exclusion  of  common 
sense.  Pause  for  a  moment,  and  recall  those  of  your  contem- 
poraries who  are  generally  considered  well-informed  ;  tell  me  if 
their  information  has  made  them  a  whit  the  wiser ;  if  not,  it  is 
only  sanctified  ignorance.  Tell  me  if  names  with  them  are  not 
a  sanction  for  opinion  ;  quotations,  the  representatives  of 
axioms  .''  All  they  have  learned  only  serves  as  an  excuse  for  all 
they  are  ignorant  of.  In  one  month,  I  will  engage  that  you 
shall  have  a  juster  and  deeper  insight  into  wisdom,  than  they 
have  been  all  their  lives  acquiring  ;  the  great  error  of  education 
is  to  fill  the  mmdjirst  with  antiquated  authors,  and  then  to  try 
the  principles  of  the  present  day  by  the  authorities  and  maxims 
of  the  past.  We  will  pursue,  for  our  plan,  the  exact  reverse  of 
the  ordinary  method.  We  will  learn  the  doctrines  of  the  day, 
as  the  first  and  most  necessary  step,  and  we  will  then  glance 
over  those  which  have  passed  away,  as  researches  rather  curious 
than  useful. 

"  You  see  this  very  small  pamphlet ;  it  is  a  paper  by  Mr. 
Mill,  upon  Government.  We  will  know  this  thoroughlv,  and 
when  we  have  done  so,  we  may  rest  assured  that  we  have  a  far 
more  accurate  information  upon  the  head  and  front  of  all  polit- 
ical knowledge,  than  two-thirds  of  the  young  men  whose  cultiva- 
tion of  mind  you  have  usually  heard  panegyrized." 

So  saying,  my  uncle  opened  the  pamphlet.      He  pointed  out 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAA\  ^^9 

to  me  its  close  and  mathematical  reasoning,  in  which  no  flaw 
could  be  delected,  nor  deduction  controverted  ;  and  he  filled 
up,  as  we  proceeded,  from  the  science  of  his  own  clear  and  en- 
larged mind,  the  various  parts  which  the  political  logician  had 
left  for  reflection  to  complete.  My  uncle  had  this  great  virtue 
of  an  expositor,  that  he  never  over-explained ;  he  never  made  a 
parade  of  his  lecture,  nor  confused  what  was  simple  by  unnec- 
essary comment. 

When  we  broke  ofif   our  first  day's  employment,  I  was  quite 
astonished   at  the  new  light  which  had  gleamed  upon  me.     I 
felt    like   Sinbad,  the     sailor,  when,   in  wandering  through    the 
cavern  in  which  he  had  been  buried  alive,  he  caught  the  first 
glimpse  of   the   bright   day.     Naturally  eager  in   everything  I 
undertook,  fond  of  application,  and  addicted  to  reflect  over  the 
various  bearings  of  any  object  that  once  engrossed  my  attention, 
I  made  great  advance  in  my  new  pursuit.     After  my  uncle  had 
brought  me  to  be  thoroughly  conversant  with  certain  and  defi- 
nite principles,  we  proceeded  to  illustrate  them  from  fact.     For 
instance,  when  we  had  finished  the  "  Essay  upon  Government,'' 
we  examined  into  the  several  Constitutions  of  England,  British 
America,  and   France ;  the  three   countries  which  pretend    the 
most  to  excellence  in  their  government :  and  we  were  enable  to 
perceive  and  judge  the  defects  and  merits  of  each,  because  we 
\i-2i^,  previously  to  our  examination,  established  certain  rules,  by 
which  they  were  to  be  investigated  and  tried.     Here  my  skepti- 
cal indifference  to  facts  was  my  chief  reason  for  readily  admit- 
ting knowledge.     I  had  no  prejudices  to  contend  with  ;   no  obscure 
notions  gleamed  from  the  past ;  no  popular  maxims  cherished  as 
truths.     Everything  was  placed  before  me  as  before  a  wholly  im- 
partial inquirer — freed  from  all  the  decorations  and  delusions 
of  sects  and   parties  :  every  argument  was  stated  with   logical 
precision — every  opinion  referred  to  a  logical  test.     Hence,  in 
a  very  short  time,  I   owned  the  justice  of  my  uncle's  assurance, 
as  to   the  comparative  concentration  of  knowledge.     We  went 
over  the  whole  of  Mill's  admirable  articles  in  the  Encyclopaedia, 
over  the  more  popular  works  of  Bentham,  and  thence  we  plunged 
into  the   recesses  of  political  economy.     I   know  not  why  this 
study  has  been  termed  uninteresting.     No  sooner  had  I  entered 
upon  its  consideration,  than   I  could   scarcely  tear  myself  from 
it.     Never  from  that  moment  to  this  have  I  ceased  to  pay  it  the 
most  constant  attention,  not  so  much  as   a   study  as  an    amuse- 
ment ;  hut  at  that  time   my  uncle's  object  was   not  to  make   mc 
a  profound  political  economist.     "  I  wish,"  said  he,  "  merely  to 
9 


130  PELHAM;  OR, 

give  you  an  acquaintance  with  the  principles  of  the  science  ; 
not  that  you  may  be  entitled  to  boast  of  knowledge,  but  that 
you  may  be  enabled  to  avoid  ignorance ;  not  that  you  may  dis- 
cover truth,  but  that  you  may  detect  error.  Of  all  sciences, 
political  economy  is  contained  in  the  fewest  books,  and  yet  is 
the  most  difficult  to  master ;  because  all  its  higher  branches 
require  earnestness  of  reflection,  proportioned  to  the  scantiness 
of  reading.  Ricardo's  work,  together  with  some  conversational 
enlargement  on  the  several  topics  he  treats  of,  will  be  enough 
for  our  present  purpose.  I  wish,  then,  to  show  you,  how  insep- 
arably allied  is  the  great  science  of  public  policy  with  that  of 
private  morality.  And  this,  Henry,  is  the  grandest  object  of 
all.     Now  to  o\xx present  study." 

Well,  gentle  reader,  (I  love,  by-the-by,  as  you  already  perceive, 
that  old-fashioned  courtesy  of  addressing  you) — well,  to  finish 
this  part  of  my  life,  which,  as  it  treats  rather  of  my  attempts  at 
reformation  than  my  success  in  error,  must  begin  to  weary  you 
exceedingly,  I  acquired  more  from  my  uncle's  conversation  than 
the  books  we  read,  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with  the  elements 
of  knowledge,  to  satisfy  myself,  and  to  please  my  instructor. 
And  I  must  say,  in  justification  of  my  studies  and  my  tutor,  that 
I  derived  one  benefit  from  them  which  has  continued  with  me 
to  this  hour — viz.,  I  obtained  a  clear  knowledge  of  moral  prin- 
*.;iple.  Before  that  time,  the  little  ability  I  possessed  only  led 
me  into  acts,  which,  I  fear,  most  benevolent  reader,  thou  hast 
already  sufficiently  condemned  ;  my  good  feelings — for  I  was 
not  naturally  bad — never  availed  me  the  least  when  present 
temptation  came  into  my  way.  I  had  no  guide  but  passion  ;  no 
rule  but  the  impulse  of  the  moment.  What  else  could  have 
been  the  result  of  my  education  ?  If  I  was  immoral,  it  was  be- 
cause I  was  never  taught  morality.  Nothing,  perhaps,  is  less 
innate  than  virtue.  I  own  that  the  lessons  of  my  uncle  did  not 
work  miracles — that,  living  in  the  world,  I  have  not  separated 
myself  from  its  errors  and  its  follies  the  vortex  was  too  strong 
— the  atmosphere  too  contagious  :  but  I  have  at  least  avoided 
the  crimes  into  which  my  temper  would  most  likely  have  driven 
me.  I  ceased  to  look  upon  the  world  as  a  game  one  was  to 
play  fairly,  if  possible — but  where  a  little  cheating  was  readily 
allowed  ;  I  no  longer  divorced  the  interests  of  other  men  from 
my  own  :  if  I  ever  endeavored  to  blind  them,  it  was  neither  by 
unlawful  means,  nor  for  a  purely  selfish  end  : — if — but  come,  ' 
Henry  Pelham,  thou  hast  praised  thyself  enough  for  the  present ; 
and,  after  all,  thy  future  adventures  will  best  tell  if  thou  art 
really  amended. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  13* 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


Mihi  jam  non  regia  Roma, 

Sed  vacuum  Tibur  placet. — HoR. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  my  mother  to  me,  affectionately,  "  you 
must  be  very  much  bored  here.  To  say  truth,  I  am  so  myself. 
Your  uncle  is  a  very  good  man,  but  he  does  not  make  his  house 
pleasant ;  and  I  have,  lately,  been  very  much  afraid  that  he  should 
convert  you  into  a  mere  book-worm  ;  after  all,  my  clear  Henry,  you 
are  quite  clever  enough  to  trust  to  your  own  ability.  Your  great 
geniuses  never  read." 

"True,  my  dear  mother,"  said  I,  with  a  most  unequivocal  yawn, 
and  depositing  on  the  table  Mr.  Bentham  on  Popular  Fallacies ; 
"  true,  and  I  am  quite  of  your  opinion.  Did  you  see  in  the  Post 
of  this  morning,  how  full  Cheltenham  was  ?  " 

"Yes,  Henry;  and  now  you  mention  it,  I  don't  think  you 
could  do  better  than  to  go  there  for  a  month  or  two.      As  for 

me,  I  must  return  to  your  father,  whom  I  left  at  Lord  H 's  : 

a  place,  e7itre  nous,  very  little  more  amusing  than  this — but  then 
one  does  get  one's  e'cart^  table,  and  that  dear  Lady  Roseville, 
your  old  acquaintance,  is  staying  there." 

"Well,"  said  I,  musingly,  "suppose  we  take  our  departure 
the  beginning  of  next  week  ? — our  way  will  be  the  same  as  far 
as  London,  and  the  plea  of  attending  you  will  be  a  good  excuse 
to  my  uncle  for  proceeding  no  farther  in  these  confounded 
books." 

"  Cest  une  affaire finie"  replied  my  mother,  "  and  I  will  speak 
to  your  uncle  myself." 

Accordingly,  the  necessary  disclosure  of  our  intentions  was 
made.  Lord  Glenmorris  received  it  with  proper  indifference, 
so  far  as  my  mother  was  concerned  ;  but  expressed  much  pain  at 
my  leaving  him  so  soon.  However,  when  he  found  I  was  not 
so  much  gratihed  as  honored  by  his  wishes  for  my  longer 
sej'oiir,  he  gave  up  the  point  with  a  delicacy  that  enchanted  me. 

The  morning  of  our  departure  arrived.  Carriage  at  the  door 
— bandboxes  in  the  passage — breakfast  on  the  table — myself  in 
my  great  coat — my  uncle  in  his  great  chair.  "  My  dear  boy," 
said  he  "  I  trust  we  shall  meet  again  soon  :  you  have  abilities 
that  may  make  you  capable  of  effecting  much  good  to  your 
fellow-creatures ;  but  you  are  fond  of  the  world,  and,  though 
not  averse  to  application,  devoted  to  pleasure,  and  likely  to  per- 
vert the  gi^^ts  you  possess.     At  all  events,  you  have  now  learned, 


132  PELHAM;  OR,  \ 

both  as  a  public  character  and  a  private  indivickial,  the  difTer- 
ence  between  good  and  evil.  Make  but  this  distinction  :  that 
whereas,  in  political  science,  the  rules  you  have  learned  may 
be  fixed  and  unerring,  yet  the  application  of  them  must  vary 
with  time  and  circumstance.  We  must  bend,  temporize,  and 
frequently  withdraw,  doctrines  which  invariable  in  their  truth, 
the  prejudices  of  the  time  will  not  invariably  allow,  and  even 
relinquish  a  faint  hope  of  obtaining  a  great  good,  for  the  cer- 
tainty of  obtaining  a  lesser;  yet  in  the  science  of  private 
morals,  which  relate  for  the  main  part  to  ourselves  individually, 
we  have  no  right  to  deviate  one  single  iota  from  the  rule  of  our 
conduct.  Neither  time  nor  circumstance  must  cause  us  to  mod- 
ify or  to  change.  Integrity  knows  no  variation  ;  honesty  no 
shadow  of  turning.  We  must  pursue  the  same  course — stern 
and  uncompromising — in  the  full  persuasion  that  the  path  of 
right  is  like  the  bridge  from  earth  to  heaven,  in  the  Mahome- 
tan creed  ; — if  we  swerve  but  a  single  hair's-breadth,  we  are 
irrevocably  lost." 

At  this  moment  my  mother  joined  us,  with  a  "  Well,  my 
dear  Henry,  everything  is  ready — we  have  no  time  to  lose." 

My  uncle  rose,  pressed  my  hand,  and  left  in  it  a  pocket-book, 
which  I  afterwards  discovered  to  be  most  satisfactorily  fdr- 
nished.  We  took  an  edifying  and  affectionate  farewell  of  each 
other,  passed  through  the  two  rows  of  servants,  drawn  up  in  mar- 
tial array,  along  the  great  hall,  and  went  off  with  the  rapidity 
of  a  novel  upon  "fashionable  life." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Die — si  grave  non  est — 
Quae  prima  iratum  ventrem  placaverit  esca. — Hor. 

I  DID  not  remain  above  a  day  or  two  in  town.  I  had  never 
seen  much  of  the  humors  of  a  watering-place,  and  my  love  of 
observing  character  made  me  exceedingly  inpatient  for  that 
pleasure.  Accordingly,  the  first  bright  morning,  I  set  off 
Cheltenham.  I  was  greatly  struck  with  the  entrance  to  that 
town  :  it  is  to  these  watering-places  that  a  foreigner  should  be 
taken,  in  order  to  give  him  an  adequate  idea  of  the  magnificent 
opulence  and  universal  luxury  of  England.  Our  country  has,  in 
every  province,  what  France  only  has  in  Paris — a  capital,  con- 
secrated to  gaiety,  idleness,  and  enjoyment.     London   is  both 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  133 

too  busy  in  one  class  of  society,  and  too  pompous  in  another,  to 
please  a  foreigner,  who  has  not  excellent  recommendations  to 
private  circles.  But  at  Brighton,  Cheltenham,  Hastings,  Bath, 
he  may,  as  at  Paris,  find  all  the  gaieties  of  society  without  know- 
ing a  single  individual. 

My  carriage   stopped   at   the Hotel.     A   corpulent  and 

stately  waiter,  with  gold  buckles  to  a  pair  of  very  tight  panta- 
loons, showed  me  up  stairs.  I  found  myself  in  a  tolerable  room 
facing  the  street,  and  ga  uished  with  two  pictures  of  rocks  and 
rivers,  with  a  comely  flig  _t  of  crows,  hovering  in  the  horizon  of 
both,  as  natural  as  possible — only  they  were  a  little  larger  than 
the  trees.  Over  the  chimney-piece,  where  I  had  fondly  hoped 
to  find  a  looking-glass,  was  a  grave  print  of  General  Washing- 
ton, with  one  hand  stuck  out  like  the  spout  of  a  tea-pot.  Be- 
tween the  two  windows  (unfavorable  position  !)  was  an  oblong  mir- 
ror, to  which  I  immediately  hastened,  and  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  my  complexion  catch  the  color  of  the  curtains  that  over- 
hung the  glass  on  each  side,  and  exhibit  the  pleasing  rurality  of 
a  pale  green. 

I  shrunk  back  aghast,  turned,  and  beheld  the  waiter.  Had  I 
seen  myself  in  a  glass  delicately  shaded  by  rose-hued  curtains,  I 
should  gently  and  smilingly  have  said,  "  Have  the  goodness  to 
bring  me  the  bill  of  fare."  As  it  was,  I  growled  out,  "  Bring  me 
the  bill." 

The  stiff  waiter  bowed  solemnly,  and  withdrew  slowly.  I 
looked  round  the  room  once  more,  and  discovered  the  additional 
adornments  of  a  tea-urn,  and  a  book.  "  Thank  Heaven," 
thought  I,  as  I  took  up  the  latter,  "  it  can't  be  one  of  Jeremy 
Bentham's."     No  !  it  was  the  Cheltenham  Guide.     I  turned  to 

the  head  of  amusements — "  Dress  ball  at  the  rooms  every " 

some  day  or  other — which  of  the  seven  I  utterly  forget ;  but  it 
was  the  same  as  that  which  witnessed  my  first  arrival  in  the 
small  drawing-room  of  the Hotel. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  "  said  I  to  myself,  as  Bedos  entered  with 
my  things,  and  was  ordered  immediately  to  have  all  in  prepara- 
tion for  "  the  dress-ball  at  the  rooms,"  at  the  hour  of  half-past 
ten.  The  waiter  entered  with  the  bill,  "  Soups,  chops,  cutlets, 
steaks,  roast  joints,  etc.,  etc. — lion,  birds.'" 

"  Get  some  soup,"  said  I,  "  a  slice  or  two  of  lion,  and  half  a 
dozen  birds." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  solemn  waiter,  "  you  can't  have  less  than  a 
whole  lion,  and  we  have  only  two  birds  in  the  house." 

"  Pray,"  asked  I,  "are  you  in  the  habit  of  supplying  your  larder 
from  J''.xeter  'Change,  or  do  you  breed  lions  here  like  poultry  "i  " 


134  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Sir,"  answered  the  grim  waiter,  never  relaxing  into  a  smile, 
"  we  have  lions  brought  us  from  the  country  every  day." 

"  What  do  you  pay  for  them  ?  "  said  I. 

"  About  three  and  sixpence  a-piece,  sir." 

"  Humph  !  market  in  Africa  overstocked,"  thought  I. 

"  Pray,  how  do  you  dress  an  animal  of  that  description  ?  " 

"  Roast  and  stuff  him,  sir,  and  serve  him  up  with  currant 
jelly." 

"  What !  like  a  hare  ?  " 

"  A  lion  is  a  hare,  sir." 

•'  What !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  is  a  hare  ! — but  we  call  it  a  lion,  because  of  the 
Game  laws." 

"  Bright  discovery,"  thought  I ;  "  they  have  a  new  language 
in  Cheltenham  ;  nothing's  like  travelling  to  enlarge  the  mind." 
"  And  the  birds,"  said  I,  aloud,  "  are  neither  humming-birds  nor 
ostriches,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  they  are  partridges." 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  some  soup,  a  cutlet,  and  a  '  bird,'  as  you 
term  it,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

"  It  shall  be  done  with  despatch,"  answered  the  pompous  at- 
tendant, and  withdrew. 

Is  there,  in  the  whole  course  of  this  pleasant  and  varying  life, 
which  young  gentlemen  and  ladies  write  verses  to  prove  same 
and  sorrowful, — is  there  in  the  whole  course  of  it,  one  half-hour 
really  and  genuinely  disagreeble  ? — if  so,  it  is  the  half-hour  be- 
fore dinner  at  a  strange  inn.  Nevertheless,  by  the  help  of  phi' 
losophy  and  the  window,  I  managed  to  endure  it  with  great  pa- 
tience :  and,  though  I  was  famishing  with  hunger,  I  pretended  the 
indifference  of  a  sage,  even  when  the  dinner  was  at  length  an- 
nounced. I  coquetted  a  whole  minute  with  my  napkin,  before  I 
attempted  the  soup,  and  I  helped  myself  to  the  potatory  food 
with  a  slow  dignity  that  must  have  perfectly  won  the  heart  of  the 
solemn  waiter.  The  soup  was  a  little  better  than  hot  water,  and 
the  sharp-sauced  cutlet  than  leather  and  vinegar;  howbeit,  I  at- 
tacked them  with  the  vigor  of  an  Irishman,  and  washed  them 
down  with  a  bottle  of  the  worst  liquor  ever  dignified  with  the 
veiierabile  nomen  of  claret.  The  bird  was  tough  enough  to  have 
passed  for  an  ostrich  in  miniature  ;  and  I  felt  its  ghost  hopping 
about  the  stomachic  sepulchre  to  which  I  consigned  it,  the 
whole  of  that  evening,  and  a  great  portion  of  the  next  day,  when 
a  glass  of  cura^oa  laid  it  at  rest. 

After  this  splendid  repast,  I  flung  myself  back  on  my  chair 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  135 

with  the  complacency  of  a  man  who  has  dined  well,  and  dozed 
away  the  time  till  the  hour  of  dressing. 

"Now,"  thought  I,  as  I  placedmyself  before  my  glass,  "shall 
I  gently  please,  or  sublimely  astonish  the  '  fashionables  '  of 
Cheltenham  ? — Ah,  bah  !  the  latter  school  is  vulgar.  Byron 
spoilt  it.  Don't  put  out  that  chain,  Bedos — I  wear — the  black 
coat,  waistcoat,  and  trowsers.  Brush  my  hair  as  much  out  of 
curl  as  you  can,  and  give  an  air  of  graceful  negligence  to  my 
tout  cnseml'/e." 

"  Oui,  Monsieur,  j'e  comprends,^'  answered  Bedos. 

I  was  soon  dressed,  for  it  is  the  design,  not  the  execution,  of  all 
great  undertakings  which  requires  deliberation  and  delay.  Action 
cannot  be  too  prompt.  A  chair  was  called  and  Henry  Pelhan?' 
was  conveyed  to  the  rooms. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


Now  see,  prepared  to  lead  the  sprightly  dance, 

The  lovely  nymphs,  and  well-dress'd  youths  advance ; 

The  spacious  room  receives  its  jovial  guest, 

And  the  floor  shakes  with  pleasing  weight  oppress'd. 

Art  of  Dancing: 
Page.     His  name,  my  lord,  is  Tyrrell. — Richard  III. 

Upon  entering,  I  saw  several  heads  rising  and  sinking,  to  the 
tune  of  "  Cherry  ripe."  A  whole  row  of  stiff  necks,  in  cravats 
of  the  most  unexceptionable  length  and  breadth,  were  just  be 
fore  me.  A  tall  thin  young  man,  with  dark  wiry  hair  brushec* 
on  one  side,  was  drawing  on  a  pair  of  white  Woodstock  gloves, 
and  affecting  to  look  round  the  room  with  the  supreme  indiffer- 
ence of  bon  ton. 

"Ah,  Ritson,"  said  another  young  Cheltenhamian  to  him  of 
the  Woodstock  gauntlets,   "  hav'n't  you  been  dancing  yet .''  " 

"  No,  Smith,  'pon  honor  !  "  answered  Mr.  Ritson  ;  "  it  is  so 
overpoweringly  hot  ;  no  fashionable  man  dances  now  ; — it  isn^t 
the  tiling:' 

"Why,"  replied  Mr.  Smith,  who  was  a  good-natured  looking 
person,  with  a  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  and  a  gold  pin  in 
his  neckcloth,  "  why,  they  dance  at  Almack's  don't  they  ?  " 

"  No,  'pon  honor,"  murmured  Mr.  Ritson  ;  "  no,  they  just 
walk  a  quadrille  or  spin  a  waltz,  as  my  friend.  Lord  Bobadob, 
calls  it  ;  nothing  more — no,  hang  dancing,   'tis  so  vulgar." 

A  stout,  red-faced  man,  about   thirty,  with  wet   auburn  hair, 


136  PELHAM;  OK, 

a  marvellously   fine  waistcoat,   and  a  badly  washed  frill,  now 
joined  Messrs.  Ritson  and  Smith. 

"  Ah,  Sir  Ralph,"  cried  Smith,  "  how  d'ye  do  ?  been  hunt- 
ing all  day,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  old  cock,"  replied  Sir  Ralph  ;  "  been  after  the  brush 
till  I  am  quite  done  up  ;  such  a  glorious  run  !  By  G — ,  you 
should  have  seen  my  grey  mare,  Smith  ;  by  G — ,  she's  a  glorious 
fencer." 

"  You  don't  hunt,  do  you,  Ritson  ?  "  interrogated  Mr.  Smith. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Mr.  Ritson,  affectedly  playing  with  his 
Woodstock  glove  ;  "yes,  but  I  only  hunt  in  Leicestershire  widi 
my  friend.  Lord  Bobadob  ;  'tis  not  the  thing  to  hunt  anywhere 
else." 

Sir  Ralph  stared  at  the  speaker  with  mute  contempt :  while 
Mr.  Smith,  like  the  ass  between  the  hay,  stood  balancing  be- 
twixt the  opposing  merits  of  the  baronet  and  the  beau.  Mean- 
while, a  smiling,  nodding,  affected  female  thing,  in  ringlets  and 
flowers,  flirted  up  to  the  trio. 

"  Now,  really,  Mr.  Smith,  you  should  deence  ;  a  feeshionable 
young  man,  like  you — I  don't  know  what  the  young  leedies  will 
say  to  you."     And  the  fair  seducer  laughed  bewitchingly. 

"You  are  very  good,  Mrs.  Dollimore,"  replied  Mr.  Smith,  with 
a  blush  and  a  low  bow  ;  "  but  Mr.  Ritson  tells  me  it  is  not  the 
thifig  to  dance." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Mrs.  Dollimore,  "  but  then  he's  seech  a  naughty, 
conceited  creature — don't  follow  his  example,  Meester  Smith  ;  " 
and  again  the  good  lady  laughed  immoderately. 

"  Nay,  Mrs.  Dollimore,"  said  Mr.  Ritson,  passing  his  hand 
through  his  abominable  hair,  "  you  are  too  severe  ;  but  tell  me, 
Mrs.  Dollimore,  is  the  Countess coming  here  ?  " 

"Now,  reelly,  Mr.  Ritson, jv^//,  who  are  the  pink  of  feeshion, 
ought  to  know  better  than  I  can  ;  but  I  hear  so." 

"  Do  you  know  the  countess  .''  "  said  Mr.  Smith,  in  respectful 
surprise,  to  Ritson. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  replied  the  Coryphaeus  of  Cheltenham, 
swinging  his  Woodstock  glove  to  and  fro ;  "  I  have  often  danced 
with  her  at  Almack's." 

"  Is  she  a  good  deencer  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Dollimore. 

"  O,  capital,"  responded  Mr.  Ritson  ;  "  she's  such  a  nice  gen- 
teel little  figure." 

Sir  Ralph,  apparently  tired  of  this  "  feeshionable  "  conversa- 
tion, swaggered  away, 

"  Pray,"  said  Mrs.  Dollimore,  "  who  is  that  geentleman  ? " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  137 

"  Sir  Ralph  Rumford,"  replied  Smith,  eagerly,  '^  a  particular 
friend  of  mine  at  Cambridge." 

"  I  wonder  if  he's  going  to  make  a  long  steey  ? "  said  Mrs, 
Dollimore. 

"Yes,  I  believe  so,"  replied  Mr.  Smith,  "  if  we  make  it  agree- 
able to  him." 

"  You  must  poositively  introduce  him  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Dolli- 
more. 

"  I  will,  with  great  pleasure,"  said  the  good-natured  Mr. 
Smith. 

"  Is  Sir  Ralph  a  ma?i  of  fashion  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Ritson. 

"  He's  a  baronet  !  "  emphatically  pronounced  Mr.  Smith. 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Ritson,  "  but  he  may  be  a  man  of  rank,  with- 
out being  a  man  of  fashion." 

"  True,"  lisped  Mrs.  Dollimore. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Smith,  with  an  air  of  puzzled  wonder- 
ment, "but  he  has  7,000/.  a-year." 

"Has  he,  indeed  ."^ "  cried  Mrs.  Dollimore,  surprised  into  her 
natural  tone  of  voice  ;  and,  at  that  moment,  a  young  lady,  ring- 
leted and  flowered  like  herself,  joined  her,  and  accosted  her  by 
the  endearing  appellation  of  "  Mamma." 

"  Have  you  been  dancing,  my  love  ? "  inquired  Mrs.  Dolli- 
more. 

"  Yes,  ma  ;  with  Captain  Johnson." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  mother,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  ;  and,  giving 
her  daughter  a  significant  push,  she  walked  away  with  her  to 
another  end  of  the  room,  to  talk  about  Sir  Ralph  Rumford,  and 
his  seven  thousand  pounds  a-year. 

"  Well !  "  thought  I,  "  odd  people  these  ;  let  us  enter  a  little 
farther  into  this  savage  country."  In  accordance  with  this  re- 
flection, I  proceeded  towards  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  Who's  that  ? "  said  Mr.  Smith,  in  a  loud  whisper  as  I  passed 
him. 

"  'Pon  honor,'"  answered  Ritson,  "  I  don't  know  !  but  he's  a 
deuced  neat-looking  fellow." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Ritson,"  said  my  vanity;  "you  are  not  so 
offensive,  after  all." 

I  paused  to  look  at  the  dancers  ;  a  middle-aged,  respectable- 
looking  gentleman  was  beside  me.  Common  people,  after  they 
have  passed  forty,  grow  social.  My  neighbor  hemmed  twice,  and 
made  preparation  for  speaking.  "  I  may  as  well  encourage 
him,"  was  my  reflection  ;  accordingly  I  turned  round,  with  a 
most  good-natured  expression  of  countcnace. 

"  A  fine  room  this,  sir,"  said  the  man  inunediately. 


138  PELHAM ;  OR, 

"  Very,"  said  I,  with  a  smile,  "  and  extremely  well  filled.'* 

"  Ah.  sir,"  answered  my  neighbor,  "Cheltenham  is  not  as  it 
used  to  be  some  fifteen  years  ago.  I  have  seen  as  many  as  one 
thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  persons  within  these  walls  "  (  cer- 
tain people  are  always  so  d d  particularizing)  ;  "ay,  sir," 

pursued  my  laudator  temporis  acti,  "  and  half  the  peerage  here 
into  the  bargain." 

"  Indeed  !  "  quoth  I,  with  an  air  of  surprise  suited  to  the  in- 
formation I  received,  "  but  the  societv  is  very  good  still,  is  it 
not  ? " 

"Oh,  very  ^^;z/^<?/,"  replied  the  man;  "but  not  so  dashing  as 
it  used  to  be."  (Oh  !  those  two  horrid  words  !  low  enough  to  suit 
even  the  author  of  " .") 

"  Pray,"  asked  I,  glancing  at  Messrs.  Ritson  and  Smith,  "  do 
you  know  who  those  gentlemen  are  ?  " 

"  Extremely  well !  "  replied  my  neighbor ;  "  the  tall  young 
man  is  Mr.  Ritson ;  his  mother  has  a  house  in  Baker-street,  and 
gives  quite  elega?it  parties.  He's  a  most  ^^;2/£'£'/ young  man  \  but 
such  an  insufferable  coxcomb." 

"  And  the  other  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh !  he's  a  Mr.  Smith ;  his  father  was  an  eminent  brewer, 
and  is  lately  dead,  leaving  each  of  his  sons  thirty  thousand 
pounds  ;  the  young  Smith  is  a  knotving  ha7id,  and  wants  to  spend 
his  money  with  spirit.  He  has  a  great  passion  for  "  high  life,' 
and  therefore  attaches  himself  much  to  Mr.  Ritson,  who  is  quite 
that  7vay  inclined.''^ 

"  He  could  not  have  selected  a  better  model,"  said  I. 

"True,"  rejoined  my  Cheltenham  Asmodeus,  with  naive  sim- 
plicity; "  but  I  hope  he  won't  adopt  his  conceit  as  well  as  his  <?/<?. 
gance^ 

"  I  shall  die,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  if  I  talk  with  this  fellow  any 
longer,"  and  I  was  just  going  to  glide  away,  when  a  tall,  stately 
dowager,  with  two  lean,  scraggy  daughters,  entered  the  room;  I 
could  not  resist  pausing  to  inquire  who  they  were. 

My  friend  looked  at  me  with  a  very  altered  and  disrespectful 
air  at  this  interrogation.  "  Who  ?  "  said  he,  "  why  the  countess 
of  Babbleton  and  her  two  daughters,  the  Honorable  Lady  Jane 
Babel,  and  the  Honorable  Lady  Mary  Babel.  They  are  the 
great  people  of  Cheltenham,"  pursued  he,  "  and  it's  afne  thing 
to  get  into  their  set." 

Meanwhile  Lady  Babbleton  and  her  two  daughters  swept  up 
the  room,  bowing  and  nodding  to  the  riven  ranks  on  each  side, 
who  made  their  salutations  with  the  most  profound  respect. 
My  experienced  eye  detected  in  a  moment  that  Lady  Babbleton, 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  139 

in  spite  of  her  title  and  her  stateliness,  was  exceedingly  the  re- 
reverse  of  good  toil.,  and  the  daughters  (who  did  not  resemble 
the  scrag  of  mutton,  but  its  ghost)  had  an  appearance  of  sour  af- 
fability, which  was  as  different  from  the  manners  of  proper  so- 
ciety as  it  possibly  could  be. 

I  wondered  greatly  who  and  what  they  were.  In  the  eyes  of 
the  Cheltenhamians,  they  were  the  countess  and  her  daughters  ; 
and  any  further  explanation  would  have  been  deemed  quite  su- 
perfluous ;  further  explanation  I  was,  however,  determined  to 
procure,  and  was  walking  across  the  room  in  profound  medita- 
tion as  to  the  method  in  which  the  discovery  should  be  made, 
when  I  was  startled  by  the  voice  of  Sir  Lionel  Garrett :  I  turned 
round,  and  to  my  inexpressible  joy,  beheld  that  worthy  baronet. 

"  Bless  me,  Pelham,"  said  he,  "  how  delighted  I  am  to  see 
you.     Lady  Harriet,  here's  your  old  favorite,  Mr  Pelham." 

Lady  Harriet  was  all  smiles  and  pleasure.  "  Give  me  your 
arm,"  said  she  :  "  I  must  go  and  speak  to  Lady  Babbleton — 
odious  woman  !  " 

"  Do,  my  dear  Lady  Harriet,"  said  I,  "  explain  to  me  what 
Lady  Babbleton  was." 

"  Why — she  was  a  milliner,  and  took  in  the  late  lord,  who  was 
an  idiot. —  Viola  tout  !  " 

"  Perfectly  satisfactorj',"  replied  L 

"  Or,  short  and  sweet,  as  Lady  Babbleton  would  say,"  replied 
Lady  Harriet,  laughing. 

"  In  antithesis  to  her  daughters,  who  are  long  and  sour." 

"  Oh,  you  satirist !  "  said  the  affected  Lady  Harriet  (who  was 
only  three  removes  better  than  the  Cheltenham  countess)  ;  "  but 
tell  me,  how  long  have  you  been  at  Cheltenham  ?  " 

"  About  four  hours  and  a  half  !  " 

"  Then  you  don't  know  any  of  the  lions  here?  " 

"None,  except  (I  added  to  myself)  the  lion  I  had  for  din- 
ner." 

"  Well,  let  me  despatch  Lady  Babbleton,  and  I'll  then  devote 
myself  to  being  your  nomenclator." 

We  walked  up  to  Lady  Babbleton,  who  had  already  disposed  of 
her  daughters,  and  was  sitting  in  solitar}-  dignity  at  the  end  of 
the  room. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Babbleton,"  cried  Lady  Harriet,  taking  both 
the  hands  of  the  dowager,  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  and  how 
well  you  are  looking;  and  your  charnung  daughters,  how  are 
they  .'' — sweet  girls  ! — and  how  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"  We  have  only  just  come,"  replied  the  ci-dci-atit  milliner,  half 
rising,  and  rustling  her  plumes  in  stately  agitation,  like  a  ner- 


140  PELHAM ;  OR, 

vous  parrot;  "we  must  conform  to  modern  ours,  Lady  Arriett, 
though,  for  my  part,  I  like  the  old-fashioned  plan  of  dining 
early,  and  finishing  one's  gayeties  before  midnight;  but  I  set 
the  fashion  of  good  ours  as  well  as  I  can.  I  think  it's  a  duty 
we  owe  to  society,  Lady  Arriett,  to  encourage  morality  by  our 
own  example.  What  else  do  we  have  rank  for  1 "  And,  so 
saying,  the  counter  countess  drew  herself  up  with  a  most  edify- 
ing air  of  moral  clignit}\ 

Lady  Harriet  looked  at  me,  and  perceiving  that  my  eye  said 
"  go  on,"  as  plainly  as  eye  could  possibly  speak,  she  continued 
— "  Which  of  the  wells  do  you  attend.  Lady  Babbleton  ? " 

"  All,"  replied  the  patronizing  dowager.  "  I  like  to  encour- 
age the  poor  people  here  ;  I've  no  notion  of  being  proud  be- 
cause one  has  a  title,  Lady  Arriett." 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  worthy  helpmate  of  Sir  Lionel  Garrett ; 
"  everybody  talks  of  your  condescension.  Lady  Babbleton ;  but 
are  you  not  afraid  of  letting  yourself  down  by  going  every- 
where ? " 

"  Oh,"  answered  the  countess,  "  I  admit  very  few  into  my  set 
at  home,  but  \  go  out  promiscuously ;"  and  then,  looking  at  me, 
she  said,  in  a  whisper,  to  Lady  Harriet,  "  who  is  that  nice  young 
gentleman  .'' " 

"  Mr.  Pelham,"  replied  Lady  Harriet ;  and,  turning  to  me, 
formally  introduced  us  to  each  other. 

"  Are  you  any  relation  (asked  the  dowager)  to  Lady  Frances 
Pelham  .? " 

"  Only  her  son,"  said  L 

"  Dear  me,"  replied  Lady  Babbleton,  "  how  odd  ;  what  a  nice 
elegant  woman  she  is  !  She  does  not  go  much  out,  does  she  ? 
I  don't  often  meet  her." 

"  I  should  not  think  it  likely  that  your  ladyship  did  meet  her 
much.     She  does  not  visit  promiscuously." 

"  P:very  rank  has  its  duty,"  said  Lady  Harriet,  gravely ; 
"  your  mother,  Mr.  Pelham,  may  confine  her  circle  as  much  as 
she  pleases;  but  the  high  rank  of  Lady  Babbleton  requires 
greater  condescension ;  just  as  the  Dukes  of  Sussex  and  Glou- 
cester go  to  many  places  where  you  and  I  would  not." 

"  Very  true  !  "  said  the  innocent  dowager  ;  "  and  that's  a  very 
sensible  remark  !  Were  you  at  Bath  last  winter,  Mr.  Pelham  .?  " 
continued  the  countess,  whose  thoughts  wandered  from  subject 
to  subject  in  the  most  rudderless  manner, 

"  No,  Lady  Babbleton,  I  was  unfortunately  at  a  less  distin- 
guished place." 

"  What  was  that  ?  " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  141 

"  Paris  !  " 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  I've  never  been  abroad  ;  I  don't  think  persons 
of  a  certain  rank  should  leave  Ensrland ;  they  should  stay  at 
home  and  encourage  their  own  man-aiactories." 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  I,  taking  hold  of  Lady  Babbleton's  shawl, 
"  what  a  pretty  Manchester  pattern  this  is." 

"  Manchester  pattern  !  "  exclaimed  the  petrified  peeress ; 
"  why  it  is  real  cachemire  :  you  don't  think  I  wear  anything 
English,  Mr.  Pelham  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  ladyship  ten  thousand  pardons,  I  am  no  judge 
of  dress  ;  but  to  return — I  am  quite  of  your  opinion,  that  we 
Plight  to  encourage  our  own  manufactories,  and  not  go  abroad  : 
but  one  cannot  stay  long  on  the  Continent,  even  if  one  is  de- 
coyed there.     One  soon  longs  for  home  again." 

"  Very  sensibly  remarked,"  rejoined  Lady  Babbleton  ;  "  that's 
what  I  call  true  patriotism  and  morality.  I  wish  all  the  young 
men  of  the  present  day  were  like  you.  Oh,  dear  ! — here's  a 
great  favorite  of  mine  coming  this  way — Mr.  Ritson  ! — do  you 
know  him  .-'  shall  I  introduce  you  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  I — frightened  out  of  my  wits, 
and  my  manners.  "  Come,  Lady  Harriet,  let  us  rejoin  Sir 
Lionel ;  "  and,  '  swift  at  the  word,'  Lady  Harriet  retook  my  arm, 
nodded  her  adieu  to  Lady  Babbleton,  and  withdrew  with  me  to 
an  obscurer  part  of  the  room. 

Here  we  ^ave  way  to  our  laughter  for  some  time — "  Is  it 
possible,"  exclaimed  I,  starting  up — "  Can  that  be  Tyrrell  t  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  man  ?  "  cried  Lady  Harriet. 

I  quickly  recovered  my  presence  of  mind,  and  reseated  my- 
self :  "  Pray  forgive  me.  Lady  Harriet,"  said  I  ;  "  but  I  think, 
nay  I  am  sure,  I  see  a  person  I  once  met  under  very  particular 
circumstances.  Do  you  observe  tliat  dark  man  in  deep  mourn- 
ing, who  has  just  entered  the  room,  and  is  now  speaking  to  Sir 
Ralph  Rumford  ?  " 

"I  do  :  it  is  Sir  John  Tyrrell  !  "  replied  Lady  Harriet  :  "he 
only  came  to  Cheltenham  yesterday.  His  is  a  very  singular 
history." 

"What  is  it  ?  "  said  I  eagerlv. 

"  Wiiy  !  he  was  the  only  son  of  a  younger  bi  anch  of  the 
Tyrrells  ;  a  very  old  family,  as  the  name  denotes.  He  was  a 
great  deal  in  a  certain  roue  set,  for  some  years,  and  was  cele- 
brated for  his  gallantries.  His  fortune  was,  however,  perfectly 
unable  to  satisfy  his  expenses  ;  he  took  to  gambling,  and  lost 
the  remains  of  his  property.  He  went  abroad,  and  used  to  be 
seen  at  the  low  gambling-houses  at  Paris,  earning  a  very  dcgrad- 


142  PELHAM;  OR, 

ed  and  precarious  subsistence  ;  till,  about  three  months  ago,  tWo 
persons,  who  stood  between  him  and  the  title  and  estates  of  the 
family,  died,  and  most  unexpectedly  he  succeeded  to  both. 
They  say  that  he  was  found  in  the  most  utter  penury  and  dis- 
tress, in  a  small  cellar  at  Paris ;  however  that  may  be,  he  is  now 
Sir  John  Tyrrell,  with  a  very  large  income,  and,  in  spite  of  a 
certain  coarseness  of  manner,  probably  acquired  by  the  low 
company  he  latterly  kept,  he  is  very  much  liked  and  even  ad- 
mired, by  the  few  good  people  in  the  society  of  Cheltenham." 

At  this  instant  Tyrrell  passed  us  ;  he  caught  my  eye,  stopped 
short,  and  colored  violently.  I  bowed ;  he  seemed  undecided 
for  a  moment  as  to  the  course  he  should  adopt ;  it  was  but 
for  a  moment.  He  returned  my  salutation  with  great  appear- 
ance of  cordiality  ;  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand  ;  expressed 
himself  delighted  to  meet  me  ;  inquired  where  I  was  staying, 
and  said  he  should  certainly  call  upon  me.  With  this  promise 
he  glided  on,  and  was  soon  lost  among  the  crowd. 

*'  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  "  said  Lady  Harriet. 

"At  Paris." 

"  What !  was  he  in  decent  society  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  I.  "  Good  night,  Lady  Harriet ;  "  and 
with  an  air  of  extreme  lassitude,  I  took  my  hat,  and  vanished 
from  that  motley  mixture  of  the  fashionably  low  and  the  vulgarlj 
genteel/ 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


•  Full  man)'  a  lady 


I  have  eyed  with  best  regard,  and  many  a  time 
The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  unto  bondage 
Drawn  my  too  diligent  eyes. 

But  you,  oh  I  you, 
So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  are  create 
Of  every  creature's  best. — Shakspeare. 

Thou  wilt  easily  conceive,  my  dear  reader,  who  hast  been  in 
my  confidence  throughout  the  whole  of  this  history,  and  whom, 
though  as  yet  thou  hast  cause  to  esteem  me  but  lightly,  I  already 
love  as  my  fkmiliar  and  my  friend — thou  wilt  easily  conceive 
my  surprise  at  meeting  so  unexpectedly  with  my  old  hero  of  the 
gambling-house.  I  felt  indeed  perfectly  stunned  at  the  shock 
of  so  singular  a  change  in  his  circumstances  since  I  had  last 
met  him.  My  thoughts  reverted  immediately  to  that  scene, 
and  to  the  mysterious  connection  between  Tyrrell  and  Glanville. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  143 

How  would  the  latter  receive  the  intelligence  of  his  enemy's 
good  fortune  ?  was  his  vengeance  yet  satisfied,  or  through  what 
means  could  it  now  find  vent  ? 

A  thousand  thoughts  similar  to  these  occupied  and  distracted 
my  attention  till  morning,  when  I  summoned  Bedos  into  the 
room  to  read  me  to  sleep.  He  opened  a  play  of  Monsieur 
Delavigne's,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  scene  I  was  in 
the  land  of  dreams. 

I  woke  about  two  o'clock  ;  dressed,  sipped  my  chocolate,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  arranging  my  hat  to  the  best  advantage, 
when  I  received  the  following  note  : — 

"  My  DEAR  Pelham, 

"  Me  tibi  commeJido.  I  heard  this  morning  at  your  hotel,  that 
you  were  here  ;  my  heart  was  a  house  of  joy  at  the  intelligence. 
I  called  upon  you  two  hours  ago;  but,  like  Antony,  'you  revel 
long  o'nights.'  Ah,  that  I  could  add  with  Shakspeare,  that  you 
were  '  notwithstanding  ///.'  I  have  just  come  from  Paris,  that 
umbilicus  terrce,  and  my  adventures  since  I  saw  you,  for  your 
private  satisfaction,  '  because  I  love  you  I  will  let  you  know ; ' 
but  you  must  satisfy  me  with  a  meeting.  Till  you  do,  '  the 
mighty  gods  defend  you  ! ' 

"  Vincent." 

The  hotel  from  which  Vincent  dated  this  epistle,  was  in  the 
same  street  as  my  own  caravanserai,  and  to  this  hotel  I  im- 
mediately set  off.  I  found  my  friend  sitting  before  a  huge  folio, 
which  he  in  vain  endeavored  to  persuade  me  that  he  seriously 
intended  to  read.  We  greeted  each  other  with  the  greatest 
cordiality. 

"  But  how,"  said  Vincent,  after  the  first  warmth  of  welcome 
had  subsided,  "  how  shall  I  congratulate  you  upon  your  new 
honors  ?  I  was  not  prepared  to  find  you  grown  from  a  roue 
into  a  senator. 

'  In  gathering  votes  you  were  not  slack, 
Now  stand  as  tightly  by  voiir  tack. 
Ne'er  show  your  lug  an'  fidgc  your  back. 

An'  hum  an'  haw; 
But  raise  your  arm,  an'  tell  your  crack 

Before  them  a'.' 

So  saith  Burns;  advice  which,  being  interpreted,  meaneth,  that 
you  must  astonish  the  rats  of  St.  Stephen's." 

"Alas!"  said  I,  "all  one's  clai>traps  in  that  house  must  be 
baited." 


144  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Nay,  but  a  rat  bites  at  any  cheese,  from  Gloucester  to  Par- 
mesan, and  you  can  easily  scrape  up  a  bit  of  some  sort. 
Talking  of  the  House,  do  you  see,  by  the  paper,  that  the  civic 
senator.  Alderman  W ,  is  at  Cheltenham  ? " 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  it.  I  suppose  he's  cramming  speeches 
and  turtle  for  the  next  season," 

"  How  wonderfully,"  said  Vincent,  "  your  city  dignities  un- 
loose the  tongue !  directly  a  man  has  been  a  mayor,  he  thinks 
himself  qualified  for  a  Tully  at  least.  Faith,  the  Lord  Mayor 
asked  me  one  day,  what  was  the  Latin  for  spouting .''  and  I 
told  him,  '  hippomanes,  or  a  raging  humor  in  mayors.'  " 

After  I  had  paid,  through  the  medium  of  my  risible  muscles, 
due  homage  to  his  witticism  of  Vincent's,  he  shut  up  his  folio, 
called  for  his  hat,  and  he  sauntered  down  into  the  street. 

"  When  do  you  go  up  to  town  ?  "  asked  Vincent. 

"  Not  till  my  senatorial  duties  require  me." 

"  Do  you  stay  here  till  then  ?  " 

"  As  it  pleases  the  gods.  But,  good  heavens  !  Vincent,  what 
a  beautiful  girl  !  " 

Vincent  turned.     "  O  Dca  cerfe,'''  murmured  he,  and  stopped. 

The  object  of  our  exclamations  was  standing  by  a  corner 
shop,  apparently  waiting  for  some  one  within.  Her  face  at  the 
moment  I  first  saw  her,  was  turned  full  towards  me.  Never 
had  I  seen  any  countenance  half  so  lovely.  She  was  apparently 
about  twenty  ;  her  hair  was  of  the  richest  chestnut,  and  a  golden 
light  played  through  its  darkness,  as  if  a  sunbeam  had  been 
caught  in  those  luxuriant  tresses,  and  was  striving  in  vain  to 
escape.  Her  eyes  were  of  light  hazel,  large,  deep  and  shaded 
into  softness  (to  use  a  modern  expression)  by  long  and  very  dark 
lashes.  Her  complexion  alone  would  have  rendered  her  beau- 
tiful, it  was  so  clear — so  pure  ;  the  blood  blushed  beneath  it, 
like  roses  under  a  clear  stream  ;  if,  in  order  to  justify  my  simile, 
roses  would  have  the  complacency  to  grow  in  such  a  situation. 
Her  nose  was  of  that  fine  and  accurate  mould  that  one  so  sel- 
dom sees,  except  in  the  Grecian  statues,  which  unites  the- 
clearest  and  most  decided  outline  with  the  most  feminine 
delicacy  and  softness  :  and  the  short  curved  arch  which  de- 
scended from  thence  to  her  mouth,  was  so  fine — so  airily 
and  exquisitely  formed,  that  it  seemed  as  if  Love  himself 
had  modelled  the  bridge  which  led  to  his  most  beautiful  and 
fragrant  island.  On  the  right  side  of  the  mouth  was  one 
dimple,  which  corresponded  so  exactly  with  every  smile  and 
movement  of  those  rosy  lips,  that  you  might  have  sworn  the 
shadow  of  each  passed  there  ;  it  was  like  the  rapid  changes  of 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN: 


45 


an  April  heaven  reflected  upon  a  valley.  She  was  somewhat, 
but  not  much,  taller  than  the  ordinary  height ;  and  her  figure, 
which  united  all  the  first  freshness  and  youth  of  the  girl  with 
the  more  luxuriant  graces  of  the  woman,  was  rounded  and 
finished  so  justly,  that  the  eye  could  glance  over  the  whole, 
without  discovering  the  least  harshness  or  unevenness,  or  atom 
to  be  added  or  subtracted.  But  over  all  these  was  a  light,  a 
glow,  a  pervading  spirit,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  convey  the 
faintest  idea.  You  should  have  seen  her  by  the  side  of  a 
shaded  fountain  on  a  summer's  day.  You  should  have  watched 
her  amidst  music  and  flowers,  and  she  might  have  seemed  to 
you  like  the  fairy  that  presided  over  both.  So  much  for  poeti- 
cal description^it  is  not  my  forte  f 

"  What  think  you  of  her,  Vincent  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  say,  with  Theocritus,  in  his  epithalamium  of  Helen " 

"  Say  no  such  thing,"  said  I ;  "  I  will  not  have  her  presence 
profaned  by  any  helps  from  your  memory." 

At  that  moment  the  girl  turned  round  abruptly,  and  re-entered 
the  stationer's  shop,  at  the  door  of  which  she  had  been  standing, 
"  Let  us  enter,"  said  Vincent:  "  I  want  some  sealing-wax," 
I  desired  no  second  invitation  :  we  marched  into  the  shop. 
My  Armida  was  leaning  on  the  arm  of  an  old  lady.  She  blushed 
deeply  when  she  saw  us  enter ;  and,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it, 
the  old  lady  concluded  her  purchases  the  moment  after,  and  they 
withdrew. 

"  '  Who  had  thought  this  clime  had  held 
A  deity  so  unparallel'd ! '  " 

justly  observed  my  companion. 

I  made  no  reply.  All  the  remainder  of  that  day  I  was  absent 
and  reserved;  and  Vincent,  perceiving  that  I  no  longer  laughed 
at  his  jokes,  nor  smik-d  at  his  quotations,  told  me  1  was  sadly 
changed  for  the  worse,  and  pretended  an  engagement,  to  rid 
himself  of  an  auditor  so  obtuse. 


CHAPTER  XUI. 


Tout  notre  mal  vicnt  de  nc  pouvoir  ctre  seuls;  de  la  le  jeu,  le  luxe,  la  dis- 
sipation, le  vin,  Ics  feaunes,  Tignorance,  la  inedisance,  I'envie,  I'ouhli  de  soi- 
meme  et  de  Dieu.  I.a  Bkuvere. 

The  next  day  I  resolved  to  call  upon  Tyrrell,  seeing  that  he 
had  not  yet  kept  his  promise  of  anticipating  me,  and  being  very 

10 


J46  PELHAM ;  OR, 

desirous  not  to  lose  any  opportunity  of  improving  my  acquaint- 
ance with  him  ;  accordingly,  I  sent  my  valet  to  make  inquiries 
as  to  his  abode.  I  found  that  he  lodged  in  the  same  hotel  as 
myself  ;  and  having  previously  ascertained  that  he  was  at  home, 
I  was  ushered  by  the  head-waiter  into  the  gamester's  apartment. 

He  was  sitting  by  the  fire  in  a  listless,  yet  thoughtful  attitude. 
His  muscular  and  rather  handsome  person  was  indued  in  a 
dressing-gown  of  rich  brocade,  thrown  on  with  a  slovenly  non- 
chalance. His  stockings  were  about  his  heels,  his  hair  was 
dishevelled,  and  the  light,  streaming  through  the  half-drawn 
window  curtains,  rested  upon  the  grey  flakes  with  which  its 
darker  luxuriance  was  interspersed ;  and  the  cross  light  in 
which  he  had  the  imprudence  or  misfortune  to  sit,  fully  devel- 
oped the  deep  wrinkles  which  years  and  dissipation  had  planted 
round  his  eyes  and  mouth,  I  was  quite  startled  at  the  oldness 
and  haggardness  of  his  appearance. 

He  rose  gracefully  enough  when  I  was  announced ;  and  no 
sooner  had  the  waiter  retired,  than  he  came  up  to  me,  shook  me 
warmly  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Let  me  thank  you  now  for  the 
attention  you  formerly  showed  me,  when  I  was  less  able  to  ex- 
press my  acknowledgments.  I  shall  be  proud  to  cultivate  your 
intimacy." 

I  answered  him  in  the  same  strain,  and,  in  the  course  of  con- 
versation, made  myself  so  entertaining,  that  he  agreed  to  spend 
the  remainder  of  the  day  with  me.  We  ordered  our  horses  at 
three,  and  our  dinner  at  seven,  and  I  left  him  till  the  former 
were  ready,  in  order  to  allow  him  time  for  his  toilet. 

During  our  ride  we  talked  principally  on  general  subjects,  on 
the  various  differences  of  France  and  England,  on  horses,  on 
wines,  on  women,  on  politics,  on  all  things,  except  that  which 
had  created  our  acquaintance.  His  remarks  were  those  of  a 
strong,  ill-regulated  mind,  which  made  experience  supply  the 
place  of  the  reasoning  faculties  ;  there  was  a  looseness  in  his 
sentiments,  and  a  licentiousness  in  his  opinions,  which  startled 
even  nie  (used  as  I  had  been  to  rakes  of  all  schools)  :  his  phi- 
losophy was  of  that  species  which  thinks  that  the  best  maxim  of 
wisdom  is — to  despise.  Of  men  he  spoke  with  the  bitterness  of 
hatred  ;  of  women,  with  the  levity  of  contempt.  France  had 
taught  him  its  debaucheries,  but  not  the  elegance  which  refines 
them  :  if  his  sentiments  were  low,  the  language  in  which  they 
were  clothed  was  meaner  still  :  and  that  which  makes  the  mo- 
rality of  the  upper  classes,  and  which  no  criminal  is  supposed 
to  be  hardy  enough  to  reject ;  that  religion  which  has  no  scoff- 
ers, that  code  which  has  no  impugners,  that  honor  among  gentle- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  147 

men,  which  constitutes  the  moving  principle  of  the  society  in 
which  they  live,  he  seemed  to  imagine,  even  in  its  most  funda- 
mental laws,  was  an  authority  to  which  nothing  but  the  inexpe- 
rience of  the  young,  and  the  credulity  of  the  romantic,  could 
accede. 

Upon  the  whole,  he  seemed  to  me  a  "bold,  bad  man,"  with 
just  enough  of  intellect  to  teach  him  to  be  a  villain,  without  that 
higher  degree  which  shows  him  that  it  is  the  worst  course  for 
his  interest ;  and  just  enough  of  daring  to  make  him  indifferent 
to  the  dangers  of  guilt,  though  it  was  not  sufficient  to  make  him 
conquer  and  control  them.  For  the  rest,  he  loved  trotting  bet- 
ter than  cantering — piqued  himself  upon  being  manly — wore 
doe-skin  gloves — drawk  port-wine,  par  preference,  and  considered 
beef-steaks  and  oyster-sauce  as  the  most  delicate  dish  in  the  bill 
of  fare.  I  think,  now,  reader,  you  have  a  tolerably  good  view 
of  his  character. 

After  dinner,  when  we  were  discussing  the  second  bottle,  I 
thought  it  would  not  be  a  bad  opportunity  to  question  him  upon 
his  acquaintance  with  Glanville.  His  countenance  fell  directly 
I  mentioned  that  name.  However,  he  rallied  himself.  "  Oh," 
said  he,  "you  mean  the  soi-disant^'\x\)\xx\.ox\..  I  knew  him  some 
years  back — he  was  a  poor  silly  youth,  half  mad,  I  believe,  and 
particularly  hostile  to  me,  owing  to  some  foolish  disagreement 
when  he  was  quite  a  boy." 

"  What  was  the  cause  ?  "  said  I, 

"  Nothing — nothing  of  any  consequence,"  answered  Tyrrell ; 
and  then  added,  with  an  air  of  coxcombr}',  "  I  believe  I  was 
more  fortunate  than  he,  in  a  certain  intrigue.  Poor  Glanville  is 
a  little  romantic,  you  know.  But  enough  of  this  now:  shall  we 
go  to  the  rooms  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  I ;  and  to  the  rooms  we  went. 


CHAPTER  XLHI. 

Veteres  revocavit  artes. — HoR. 
Since  I  came  hither  I  have  heard  strange  news. — King  Lear. 

Two  days  after  my  long  conversation  with  Tyrrell,  I  called  again 
upon  that  worthy.  To  my  great  surjirise  lie  liad  left  ('heltenliain. 
I  then  strolled  to  Vincent  :  I  found  him  lolling  on  his  sofa,  sur- 
rounded, as  usual,  with  books  and  papers. 

"Come  in,  Pelham,"  said  he,  as  I  hesitated  at  the  threshold 


148  PELHAM;  OR, 

— "  come  in.  I  have  been  delighting  myself  with  Plato  all  the 
morning ;  I  scarcely  know  what  it  is  that  enchants  us  so  much 
with  the  ancients.  I  rather  believe,  with  Schlegel,  that  it  is  that 
air  of  perfect  repose — the  stillness  of  a  deep  soul,  which  rests 
over  their  writings.  Whatever  would  appear  connnonplace 
amongst  us,  has  with  them  I  know  not  what  of  sublimity  and 
pathos.  Triteness  seems  the  profundity  of  truth — wildness,  the 
daring  of  a  luxuriant  imagination.  The  fact  is,  that  in  spite  of 
every  fault,  you  see,  through  all,  the  traces  of  original  thought ; 
there  is  a  contemplative  grandeur  in  their  sentiments,  which 
seems  to  have  nothing  borrowed  in  its  meaning  or  its  dress. 
Take,  for  instance,  this  fragment  of  Mimnermus,  or  the  shortness 
of  life, — what  subject  can  seem  more  tame  ? — what  less  striking 
than  the  feelings  he  expresses  ? — and  yet,  throughout  every  line, 
there  is  a  melancholy  depth  and  tenderness,  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  define.  Of  all  English  writers  who  partake  the  most  of 
this  spirit  of  conveying  interest  and  strength  to  sentiments  and 
subjects  neither  novel  in  themselves,  nor  adorned  in  their  ar- 
rangement, I  know  none  that  equal  Byron  :  it  is  indeed  the  chief 
beauty  of  that  extraordinary  poet.  Examine  Childe  Harold  ac- 
curately, and  you  will  be  surprised  to  discover  how  very  little  of 
real  depth  or  novelty  there  often  is  in  the  reflections  which  seem 
most  deep  and  new.  You  are  enchained  by  the  vague  but  pow- 
erful beauty  of  the  style  ;  the  strong  impress  of  originality  which 
breathes  throughout.  Like  the  oracle  of  Dodona,  he  makes 
the  forest  his  tablets,  and  writes  his  inspirations  upon  the  leaves 
of  the  trees  ;  but  the  source  of  that  inspiration  you  cannot  tell ; 
it  is  neither  the  truth  nor  the  beauty  of  his  sayings  which  you 
admire,  though  you  fancy  that  it  is  :  it  is  the  mystery  which  ac- 
companies them." 

"  Pray,"  said  I,  "  do  you  not  imagine  that  one  great  cause  of 
this  spirit  of  which  you  speak,  and  which  seems  to  be  nothing 
more  than  a  thoughtful  method  of  expressing  all  things,  even 
to  trifles,  was  the  great  loneliness  to  which  the  ancient  poets  and 
philosophers  were  attached  ?  I  think  (though  I  have  not  your 
talent  for  quoting)  that  Cicero  calls  '  the  consideration  of  nature 
the  food  of  the  mind,'  and  the  mind  which,  in  solitude,  is  con- 
fined necessarily  to  a  few  objects,  meditates  more  closely  upon 
those  it  embraces  ;  the  habit  of  this  meditation  enters  and  per- 
vades the  system,  and  whatever  afterwards  emanates  from  it  is 
tinctured  with  the  thoughtful  and  contemplative  colors  it  has  re- 
ceived." 

"  Wonderful !  "  cried  Vincent :  "  how  long  have  you  learnt  to 
read  Cicero,  and  talk  about  the  mind  ? " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  149 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  "  I  am  perhaps  less  ignorant  than  I  affect  to 
be  :  it  is  7iow  my  object  to  be  a  dandy  ;  hereafter  I  may  aspire 
to  be  an  orator — a  wit,  a  scholar,  or  a  Vincent.  You  will  see 
then  that  there  have  been  many  odd  quarters  of  an  hour  in  my 
life  less  unprofitably  wasted  than  you  imagine." 

Vincent  rose  in  a  sort  of  nervous  excitement,  and  then  reseat- 
ing himself,  fixed  his  dark  black  eyes  steadfastly  upon  me 
for  some  moments  ;  his  countenance  all  the  while  assuming  a 
higher  and  graver  expression  than  I  had  ever  before  seen  it 
wear. 

"  Pelham,"  said  he  at  last,  "  it  is  for  the  sake  of  moments  like 
these,  when  your  better  nature  flashes  out,  that  I  have  sought 
your  society  and  your  friendship.  /,  too,  am  not  wholly  what  I 
appear :  the  world  may  yet  see  that  Halifax  was  not  the  only 
statesman  whom  the  pursuits  of  literature  had  only  formed  the 
better  for  the  labors  of  business.  Meanwhile,  let  me  pass  for 
the  pedant,  and  the  bookworm  :  like  a  sturdier  adventurer  than 
myself,  '  I  bide  my  time.' — Pelham — this  will  be  a  busy  ses- 
sion !   shall  you  prepare  for  it  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  answered  I,  relapsing  into  my  usual  tone  of  languid 
affectation ;  "  I  shall  have  too  much  to  do  in  attending  to 
Stultz,  and  Nugee,  and  Tattersall  and  Baxter,  and  a  hundred 
other  occupiers  of  spare  time.  Remember,  this  is  my  first  sea- 
son in  London  since  my  majority. 

Vincent  took  up  the  newspaper  with  evident  chagrin  ;  however, 
he  was  foo  theoretically  the  man  of  the  world  long  to  show  his 
displeasure,  "  Parr — Parr — again,"  said  he  ;  "  how  they  stuff  the 
journals  with  that  name  !  Heaven  knows,  I  venerate  learning 
as  much  as  any  man ;  but  I  respect  it  for  its  uses,  and  not  for  it- 
self. However,  I  will  not  quarrel  with  his  reputation — it  is  but 
for  a  day.  Literary  men,  who  leave  nothing  but  their  name  to 
posterity,  have  but  a  short  twilight  of  posthumous  renown. 
Ap?'opos,  do  you  know  my  pun  upon  Parr  and  the  Major." 

"  Not  I,"  said  I,  "■  Majora,  canamus  !  " 

"Why,  Parr  and  I,  and  two  or  three  more,  were  dining  once 
at  poorT.  M 's,  the  author  of  '  The  Indian  Antiquities.'  Ma- 
jor  ,  a  great  traveller,  entered  into  a  dispute  with  Parr  about 

Babylon  ;  the  Doctor  got  into  a  violent  passion,  and  poured  out 
such  a  heap  of  quotations  on  his  unfortunate  antagonist,  that 
the  hitter,  stunned  bv  the  clamor,  and  terrified  bv  the  Greek,  was 
obliged  to  succumb.  Parr  turned  tiiumphantly  tome:  "What 
is  your  opinion,  my  lord,"  said  he  ;  "  who  is  in  the  right  ? " 

^^  Adz'ers/s  MA]OR — I'ar  secuudis^^''  answered  L 

"  Vincent,"  I  said,  after  I  had  expressed  sufficient  adwirati^r. 


150  PELHAM;  OR, 

at  his  pun — "  Vincent,  I  begin  to  be  weary  of  this  life  ;  I  shall 
accordingly  pack  up  my  books  and  myself,  and  go  to  Malvern 
Wells,  to  live  quietly  till  I  think  it  time  for  London.  After  to- 
day you  will,  therefore,  see  me  no  more." 

"  I  cannot,"  answered  Vincent,  "  contravene  so  laudable  a 
purpose,  however  I  may  be  the  loser."  And,  after  a  short  and 
desultory  conversation,  I  left  him  once  more  to  the  tranquil  en- 
joyment of  his  Plato.  That  evening  I  went  to  Malvern,  and  there 
I  remained  in  a  monotonous  state  of  existence,  dividing  my  time 
equally  between  my  mind  and  my  body,  and  forming  myself  into 
that  state  of  contemplative  reflection,  which  was  the  object  of 
Vincent's  admiration  in  the  writings  of  the  ancients. 

Just  when  I  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  my  retreat,  I  received 
an  intelligence  which  most  materially  affected  my  future  pros- 
pects. My  uncle,  who  had  arrived  at  the  sober  age  of  fifty,  with- 
out any  apparent  designs  of  matrimony,  fell  suddenly  in  love 
with  a  lady  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  and  married  her, 
after  a  courtship  of  three  weeks. 

"  I  should  not,"  said  my  poor  mother,  very  generously,  in  a 
subsequent  letter,  "  so  much  have  minded  his  marriage,  if  the 
lady  had  not  thought  proper  to  become  in  the  family  way  ;  a 
thing  which  I  do  and  always  shall  consider  a  most  unwarranta- 
ble encroachment  on  your  rights." 

I  will  confess  that,  on  first  hearing  this  news  I  experienced  a 
bitter  pang  :  but  reasoned  it  away.  I  was  already  under  great 
obligations  to  my  uncle,  and  I  felt  it  a  very  unjust  and  ungra- 
cious assumption  on  my  part,  to  affect  anger  at  conduct  I  had 
no  right  to  question,  or  mortification  at  the  loss  of  pretensions 
I  had  so  equivocal  a  privilege  to  form.  A  man  of  fifty  has,  per- 
haps^ a  right  to  consult  his  own  happiness,  almost  as  much  as  a 
man  of  thirty ;  and  if  he  attracts  by  his  choice  the  ridicule  of 
those  whom  he  has  never  obliged,  it  is  at  least  from  those  persons 
he  has  obliged  that  he  is  to  look  for  countenance  and  defence. 

Fraught  with  these  ideas,  I  wrote  to  my  uncle  a  sincere  and 
warm  letter  of  congratulation.  His  answer  was,  like  himself, 
kind,  affectionate,  and  generous ;  it  informed  me  that  he  had 
already  made  over  to  me  the  annual  sum  of  one  thousand 
pounds ;  and  that  in  case  of  his  having  a  lineal  heir,  he  had, 
moreover,  settled  upon  me,  after  his  death,  two  thousand  a-year. 
He  ended  by  assuring  me  that  his  only  regret  at  marrying  a  lady 
who  in  all  respects  was,  above  a//" women,  calculated  to  make 
him  happy,  was  his  unfeigned  reluctance  to  deprive  me  of  a 
station,  which  (he  was  pleased  to  say)  I  not  only  deserved,  but 
should  adorn. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  151 

Upon  receiving  this  letter,  I  was  sensibly  affected  with  my 
uncle's  kindness;  and  so  far  from  repining  at  his  choice  I 
most  heartily  wished  him  every  blessing  it  could  afford  him, 
even  though  an  heir  to  the  titles  of  Glenmorris  were  one  of 
them. 

I  protracted  my  stay  at  Malvern  some  weeks  longer  than  I 
had  intended  :  the  circumstance  which  had  wrought  so  great  a 
change  in  my  fortune,  wrought  no  less  powerfully  on  my  char- 
acter. 1  became  more  thoughtfully  and  solidly  ambitious.  In- 
stead of  wasting  my  time  in  idle  regrets  at  the  station  I  had 
lost,  I  rather  resolved  to  carve  out  for  myself  one  still  lofty  and 
more  universally  acknowledged.  I  determined  to  exercise,  to 
their  utmost,  the  little  ability  and  knowledge  I  possessed ;  and 
while  the  increase  of  income,  derived  from  my  uncle's  generosity, 
furnished  me  with  what  was  necessary  for  my  luxury,  I  was  re- 
solved that  it  should  not  encourage  me  in  the  indulgence  of  my 
indolence. 

In  this  mood,  and  with  these  intentions,  I  repaired  to  the 
metropolis. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Cum  pulchris  tunicis  sumet  nova  consilia  at  spes. — HoR. 

And  look  always  that  they  be  shape, 

What  garment  that  thou  shalt  make 

Of  him  that  can  best  do 

With  all  that  pertaineth  thereto. — Rom.  of  the  Rose. 

How  well  I  can  remember  the  feelings  with  which  I  entered 
London,  and  took  possession  of  the  apartments  prepared  for 
me  at  Mivart's  !  A  year  had  made  a  vast  alteration  in  my  mind  ; 
I  had  ceased  to  regard  pleasure  for  its  own  sake ;  I  rather 
coveted  its  enjoyments,  as  the  great  sources  of  worldly  dis- 
tinction. I  was  not  the  less  a  coxcomb  than  heretofore,  nor 
the  less  fastidious  in  my  horses  and  my  dress;  but  I  viewed 
these  matters  in  a  light  wholly  different  from  that  in  which  I 
had  hitherto  regarded  them.  Beneath  all  the  carelessness  of 
my  exterior,  my  mind  was  close,  keen,  and  inquiring;  and 
under  all  the  affectations  of  foppery,  and  the  levity  of  manner, 
I  veiled  an  ambition  the  most  extensive  in  its  objects,  and  a 
resolution  the  most  daring  in  the  accomplishment  of  its  means. 

I  was  still  lounging  over  my  breakfast,  on  the  second  morning 
of  my  arrival,  when  Mr. ,  the  tailor,  was  announced. 


152  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Pelham ;  happy  to  see  you  returned.  Dc 
I  disturb  you  too  early  ?  shall  I  wait  on  you  again  ? " 

"  No,  Mr. ,  I  am  ready  to  receive  you.     You  may  renew 

my  measure." 

"  We  are  a  very  good  figure,  Mr.  Pelham ;  very  good  figure," 
replied  the  Schneider,  surveying  me  from  head  to  foot,  while  he 
was  preparing  his  measure  ;  "  we  want  a  little  assistance  though  ; 
we  must  be  padded  well  here,  we  must  have  our  chest  thrown 
out,  and  have  an  additional  inch  across  the  shoulders  ;  we  must 
live  for  effect  in  this  world,  Mr.  Pelham  ;  a  leetle  tighter  round 
the  waist,  eh .''  " 

"Mr. ,"  said  I,  "you  will  take,  first,  my  exact  measure, 

and,  secondly,  my  exact  instructions.    Have  you  done  the  first?  " 

"  We  are  done  now,  Mr.  Pelham,"  replied  my  man-j?iaker, 
in  a  slow,  solemn  tone. 

"  You  will  have  the  goodness  then  to  put  no  stuffing  of  any 
description  in  my  coat ;  you  will  not  pinch  me  an  iota  tighter 
across  the  waist  than  is  natural  to  that  part  of  my  body ;  and 
you  will  please,  in  your  infinite  mercy,  to  leave  me  as  much  after 
the  fashion  in  which  God  made  me,  as  you  possibly  can." 

"  But,  sir,  we  must  be  padded  ;  we  are  much  too  thin  ;  all  the 
gentlemen  in  the  Life  Guards  are  padded,  sir." 

"  Mr. ,"  answered  I,  "you  will  please  to  speak  of  tis  with 

a  separate,  and  not  a  collective  pronoun  ;  and  you  will  let  me 
for  once  have  my  clothes  such  as  a  gentleman,  who,  I  beg  of  you 
to  understand,  is  not  a  Life  Guardsman,  can  wear  without  being 
mistaken  for  a  Guy  Fawkes  on  a  fifth  of  November." 

Mr. looked  very  discomfited  :  "  We  shall  not  be  liked,  sir, 

we  are  made — we  shan't,  I  assure  you.  I  will  call  on  Saturday 
at  eleven  o'clock.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Pelham  ;  we  shall  never 
be  done  justice  to,  if  we  do  not  live  for  effect ;  good  morning, 
Mr.  Pelham." 

And  here,  as  I  am  weary  of  tailors,  let  me  reflect  a  little  upon 
that  divine  art  of  which  they  are  the  professors.  Alas,  for  the 
instability  of  all  human  sciences !  A  few  short  months  ago,  in 
the  first  edition  of  this  memorable  work,  I  laid  down  rules  for 
costume,  the  value  of  which  Fashion  begins  already  to  destroy. 
The  thoughts  which  I  shall  now  embody,  shall  be  out  of  the 
reach  of  that  great  innovator,  and  applicable  not  to  one  age,  but 
to  all.  To  the  sagacious  reader,  who  has  already  discovered 
what  portions  of  this  work  are  writ  in  irony — what  in  earnest — 
I  fearlessly  commit  these  maxims  ;  beseeching  him  to  believe, 
with  Sterne,  that  "  everything  is  big  with  jest,  and  has  wit  in  it, 
and  instruction  too, — if  we  can  but  find  it  out ! " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  153 

MAXIMS. 

I. 

Do  not  require  your  dress  so  much  to  fit  as  to  adorn  you.  Na- 
ture is  not  to  be  copied,  but  to  be  exalted  by  art.  Apelles 
blamed  Protogenes  for  being  too  natural, 

II. 

Never  in  your  dress  altogether  desert  that  taste  which  is  gen- 
eral. The  world  considers  eccentricity  in  great  things  genius ; 
in  small  things,  folly. 

III. 

Always  remember  that  you  dress  to  fascinate  others,  not  your- 
self. 

IV. 

Keep  your  mind  free  from  all  violent  affectations  at  the  hour 
of  toilet.  A  philosophical  serenity  is  perfectly  necessary  to  suc- 
cess. Helvetius  says  justly,  that  our  errors  arise  from  our  pas- 
sions. 

V. 

Remember  that  none  but  those  whose  courage  is  unquestion- 
able, can  venture  to  be  effeminate.  It  was  only  in  the  field  that 
the  Spartans  were  accustomed  to  use  perfumes  and  curl  their 
hair. 

VI. 

Never  let  the  finery  of  chains  and  rings  %&q.v(\ your  own  c\\o\ce. 
that  which  naturally  belongs  to  women  should  appear  only  worn 
for  their  sake.     We  dignify  foppery,  vyhen  we  invest  it  with  a 
sentiment. 

VII. 

To  win  the  affection  of  your  mistress,  appear  negligent  in  3'our 
costume — to  preserve  it,  assiduous  :  the  first  is  a  sign  of  the 
passion  of  love  ;  the  second  of  its  respect. 

VIII. 

A  man  must  be  a  profound  calculator  to  be  a  consummate 
dresser.  One  must  not  dress  the  same,  whether  one  goes  to  a  min- 
ister or  mistress  ;  an  avaricious  uncle,  or  an  ostentatious  cousin  ; 
there  is  no  diplomacy  more  subtle  than  that  of  dress. 


154  PELHAM;  OR, 

IX. 

Is  the  great  man  whom  you  would  conciliate  a  coxcomb  ?— 
go  to  him  in  a  waistcoat  like  his  own.  "  Imitation,"  says  the 
author  of  Lacon,  "  is  the  sincerest  flattery." 

X. 

The  handsome  may  be  showy  in  dress,  the  plain  should  study 
to  be  unexceptionable  ;  just  as  in  great  men  we  look  for  some- 
thing to  admire — in  ordinary  men  we  ask  for  nothing  to  forgive. 

XI. 

There  is  a  study  of  dress  for  the  aged,  as  well  as  for  the  young. 
Inattention  is  no  less  indecorous  in  one  than  in  the  other ;  we 
may  distinguish  the  taste  appropriate  to  each,  by  the  reflection 
that  youth  is  made  to  be  loved — age  to  be  respected. 

XII. 

A  fool  may  dress  gaudily,  but  a  fool  cannot  dress  well — for 
to  dress  well  requires  judgment ;  and  Rochefoucault  says  with 
truth,  "  On  est  quelque  fois  un  sot  avec  de  V esprit,  mais  on  ne  Vest 
jamais  avec  du  jugement.^^ 

XIII. 

There  may  be  more  pathos  in  the  fall  of  a  collar,  or  the  curl 
of  a  lock,  than  the  shallow  think  for.  Should  we  be  so  apt  as 
we  are  now  to  compassionate  the  misfortunes,  and  to  forgive  the 
insincerity  of  Charles  I.,  if  his  pictures  had  portrayed  him  in  a 
bob-wig  and  a  pig-tail  .■'  Vandyke  was  a  greater  sophist  than 
Hume. 

XIV. 

The  most  graceful  principle  of  dress  is  neatness — the  most 
vulgar  is  preciseness. 

XV 

Dress  contains  the  two  codes  of  morality — private  and  public. 
Attention  is  the  duty  we  owe  to  others — cleanliness  that  which 
we  owe  to  ourselves. 

XVI. 

Dress  so  that  it  may  never  be  said  of  you  "  What  a  well- 
dressed  man  !  " — but,  "  What  a  gentlemanlylike  man  I  " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  155 

XVII. 

Avoid  many  colors  ;  and  seek,  by  some  one  prevalent  and 
quiet  tint  to  sober  down  the  others.  Apelles  used  only  four 
colors,  and  always  subdued  those  which  were  more  florid,  by  a 
darkening  varnish. 

XVIII. 

Nothing  is  superficial  to  a  deep  observer  !  It  is  in  trifles  that 
the  mind  betrays  itself.  "  In  what  part  of  that  letter,"  said  a 
king  to  the  wisest  of  living  diplomatists,  "  did  you  discover 
irresolution  ?  "  — "  In  its  ns  and  gs  /"  was  the  answer. 

XIX. 

A  very  benevolent  man  will  never  shock  the  feelings  of  others, 
by  an  excess  either  of  inattention  or  display  :  you  may  doubt, 
therefore,  the  philanthropy  both  of  a  sloven  and  a  fop. 

XX. 

There  is  an  indifference  to  please  in  a  stocking  down  at  heel 
— but  there  may  be  malevolence  in  a  diamond  ring. 

XXI. 

Inventions  in  dressing  should  resemble  Addison's  definition 
of  fine  writing,  and  consist  of  "refinements  which  are  natural, 
without  being  obvious." 

XXII. 

He  who  esteems  trifles  for  themselves,  is  a  trifler — he  who 
esteems  them  for  the  conclusions  to  be  drawn  from  them,  or  the 
advantage  to  which  they  can  be  put,  is  a  philosopher. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


Tantot,  Monseigneur  le  Marquis  \  cheval — 

Tantot,  Monsieur  du  Mozin  de  bout !  — UArt  de  se  Promener  h  Cheval. 

My  cabriolet  was  at  the  door,  and  I  was  preparing  to  enter, 
when  I  saw  a  groom  managing,  with  difficulty,  a  remarkably  fine 
and  spirited  horse.  As,  at  that  time,  I  was  chiefly  occupied 
with  the  desire  of  making  as  perfect  a  stud  as  my  fortune  would 
allow,  I  sent  my  cab  boy  {vulgo  Tiger)  to  inquire  of  the  groom, 
whether  the  horse  was  to  be  sold,  and  to  whom  it  belonged. 


156  PELHAM;  OK, 

"  It  was  not  to  be  disposed  of,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  it  be- 
longed to  Sir  Reginald  Glanville." 

The  name  thrilled  through  me  ;  I  drove  after  the  groom,  and 
inquired  Sir  Reginald  Glanville's  address.  His  house,  the  groom 
informed  me,  was  at  No. —  Pall  Mall.  I  resolved  to  call  that  day, 
but,  as  the  groom  said  that  he  was  rarely  at  home  till  late  in  the 
afternoon,  I  drove  first  to  Lady  Roseville's  to  talk  about  Al- 
mack's  and  the  beau  jnonde,  and  be  initiated  into  the  newest 
scandal  and  satire  of  the  day. 

Lady  Roseville  was  at  home ;  I  found  the  room  half  full  of 
women  :  the  beautiful  countess  was  one  of  the  few  persons  ex- 
tant who  admit  people  of   a  morning.     She  received  me  with 

marked  kindness.     Seeing  that ,  who  was  esteemed,  among 

his  fiiends,  the  handsomest  man  of  the  day,  had  risen  from  his 
seat,  next  to  Lady  Roseville,  in  order  to  make  room  for  me,  I 
negligently  and  quietly  dropped  into  it,  and  answered  his  grave 
and  angry  stare  at  my  presumption,  with  my  very  sweetest  and 
most  condescending  smile.  Heaven  be  praised,  the  handsom- 
est man  of  the  day  is  never  the  chief  object  in  the  room,  when  Henry 
Pelham  and  his  guardian  angel,  termed  by  his  enemies,  his  self- 
esteem,  once  enter  it. 

I  rattled  on  through  a  variety  of  subjects  till  Lady  Roseville 
at  last  said  laughingly,  "  I  see,  Mr.  Pelham,  that  you  have 
learned,  at  least,  the  art  of  making  ih^frais  of  the  conversation 
since  your  visit  to  Paris," 

"I  understand  you,"  answered  I ;  "you  mean  that  I  talk  too 
much  ;  it  is  true — I  own  the  offence — nothing  is  so  unpopular  ! 
Even  I,  the  civilest,  best-natured,  most  unaffected  person  in  all 
Europe,  am  almost  disliked,  for  that  sole  and  simple  crime.  Ah  ! 
the  most  beloved  man  in  society  is  that  deaf  and  dumb  person, 
cofnment  s^appelk-t-in  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  "  Popularity  is  a  goddess  best 
worshipped  by  negatives ;  and  the  fewer  claims  one  has  to  be 
admired,  the  more  pretensions  one  has  to  be  beloved." 

"  Perfectly  true,  in  general,"  said  I — "  for  instance,  I  make 
the  rule,  and  you  the  exception.  I,  a  perfect  paragon,  am  hated 
because  I  am  one ;  you,  a  perfect  paragon,  are  idohzed  in  spite 
of  it.  But  tell  me,  what  literary  news  is  there  ?  I  am  tired  of 
the  trouble  of  idleness,  and  in  order  to  enjoy  a  little  dignified 
leisure,  intend  to  set  up  as  a  savant^ 

"  Oh,  Lady  C is  going  to  write  a  Commentary  on 

Ude  ;  and  Madame  de  Genlis  a  Proof  of  the  Apocrypha.     The 

Duke  of  N e  is  publishing  a  Treatise  on  '  Toleration  ;  '  and 

Lord  L an  Essay  on  *  Self-knowledge.'    As  for  news  more 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  157 

remote,  I  hear  that  the  Dey  of  Algiers  is  finishing  an  '  Ode  to 
Liberty,'  and  the  College  of  Caffraria  preparing  a  volume  of 
voyages  to  the  North  Pole  !  " 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "  if  I  retail  this  information  with  a  serious  air, 
I  will  lay  a  wager  that  I  find  plenty  of  believers  ;  for  fiction,  ut- 
tered solemnly,  is  much  more  like  probability  than  truth  uttered 
doubtingly  : — else  how  do  the  priests  of  Brama  and  Mahomet 
live  ? " 

"  Ah  !  now  you  grow  too  profound,  Mr.  Pelham  !  " 

"  Cestvrai—hnX—'' 

"  Tell  me,"  interrupted  Lady  Roseville,  "how  it  happens  that 
you,  who  talk  eruditely  enough  upon  matters  of  erudition,  should 
talk  so  lightly  upon  matters  of  levity  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  I,  rising  to  depart,  "  very  great  minds  are  apt 
to  think  that  all  which  they  set  rt^/y^  value  upon,  is  of  equal  im- 
portance. Thus  Hesiod,  who,  you  know,  was  a  capital  poet, 
though  rather  an  imitator  of  Shenstone,  tells  us  that  God  be- 
stowed valor  on  some  men,  and  on  others  a  genius  for  dancing. 
It  was  reserved  for  me,  Lady  Roseville,  to  unite  the  two  perfec- 
tions.    Adieu !  " 

"Thus,"  said  I,  when  I  was  once  more  alone — "thus  do  we 
'play  the  fools  with  the  time,'  until  Fate  brings  that  which  is 
better  than  folly  ;  and,  standing  idly  upon  the  sea-shore,  till  we 
can  catch  the  favoring  wind  which  is  to  waft  the  vessel  of  our 
destiny  to  enterprise  and  fortune,  amuse  ourselves  with  the 
weeds  and  the  pebbles  which  are  within  our  reach  !  " 


CHAPTER  XLVL 


There  was  a  youlh  who,  as  with  toil  and  travel, 
Had  grown  quite  weak  and  grey  before  his  time ; 
Nor  any  could  the  restless  grief  unravel 
Which  burned  within  him,  withering  u|)  his  prime, 
And  goading  him,  like  fiends,  from  land  to  land. — 

P.  15,  Shelley. 

From  Lady  Roseville's  I  went  to  Glanville's  house.  He  was 
at  home  I  was  ushered  into  a  beautiful  apartment,  hung  with 
rich  damask,  and  interspersed  with  a  profusion  of  mirrors.  Be- 
yond to  the  right  of  this  room,  was  a  small  closet,  fitted  up  with 
books.  This  room,  evidently  a  favorite  retreat,  was  adorned  at 
close  intervals  with  girandoles  of  silver  and  mother-of-pearl ; 
the  handles  of  the  doors  were  of  the  same  material. 


158  PELHAM ;  OR, 

This  closet  opened  upon  a  spacious  and  lofty  saloon,  the 
walls  of  which  were  covered  with  the  masterpieces  of  Flemish 
and  Italian  art.  Through  this  apartment  I  was  led,  by  the  ob- 
sequious and  bowing  valet,  into  a  fourth  room,  in  which,  neg- 
ligently robed  in  his  dressing-gown,  sat  Reginald  Glanville  : — 
"Good  Heavens,"  thought  I,  as  I  approached  him,  "  can  this  be 
the  man  who  made  his  residence,  by  choice,  in  a  miserable 
hovel,  exposed  to  all  the  damps,  winds,  and  vapors,  that  the 
prolific  generosity  of  an  English  Heaven  ever  begot  ?  " 

Our  meeting  was  cordial  in  the  extreme.  Glanville,  though 
still  pale  and  thin,  appeared  in  much  better  health  than  I  had 
yet  seen  him  since  our  boyhood.  He  was,  or  affected  to  be,  in 
the  most  joyous  spirits  ;  and  when  his  blue  eye  lighted  up,  'n 
answer  to  the  merriment  of  his  lips,  and  his  noble  and  glorious 
cast  of  countenance  shone  out,  as  if  it  had  never  been  clouded 
by  grief  or  passion,  I  thought  as  I  looked  at  him,  that  I  had 
never  seen  so  perfect  a  specimen  of  masculine  beauty,  at  once 
physical  and  intellectual. 

"  My  dear  Pelham,"  said  Glanville,  "  let  us  see  a  great  deal 
of  each  other  :  I  live  very  much  alone  :  I  have  an  excellent  cook 
sent  me  over  from  France  by  the  celebrated  gourmand  Mare- 

chal  de .     I  dine  every  day  exactly  at  eight,  and  never 

accept  an  invitation  to  dine  elsewhere.  My  table  is  always  laid 
for  three,  and  you  will  therefore,  be  sure  of  finding  a  dinner  here 
every  day  you  have  no  better  engagement.  What  think  you  of 
my  taste  in  pictures  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  to  say,"  answered  I,  "  that  since  I  am  so  often 
to  dine  with  you,  I  hope  your  taste  in  wines  will  be  one-half  as 
good." 

"  We  are  all,"  said  Glanville,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  we  are  all, 
in  the  words  of  the  true  old  proverb,  '  children  of  a  larger 
growth.'  Our  first  top  is  love — our  second,  display,  according 
as  our  ambition  prompts  us  to  exert  it.  Some  place  it  in  horses 
— some  in  honors,  some  in  feasts,  and  some — void  un  exemple 
— in  furniture  or  pictures.  So  true  it  is,  Pelham,  that  our  earli- 
est longings  are  the  purest :  in  love,  we  covet  goods  for  the  sake 
of  the  one  beloved  :  in  display,  for  own :  thus,  our  first  stratum 
of  mind  produces  fruit  for  others  ;  our  second  becomes  nig- 
gardly, and  bears  only  sufficient  for  ourselves.  But  enough 
of  my  morals — will  you  drive  me  out,  if  I  dress  quicker  than  you 
ever  saw  man  dress  before  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  for  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  drive  out  a 
badly-dressed  friend  ;  take  time,  and  I  will  let  you  accompany 
me." 


'  ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  159 

"  So  be  it,  then.  Do  you  ever  read  ?  if  so,  my  books  are 
made  to  be  opened,  and  you  may  toss  them  over  while  I  am  at 
my  toilet.  Look — here  are  two  works,  one  of  poetry — one  on 
the  Catholic  Question — both  dedicated  to  me.  Seymour — my 
waistcoat.  See  what  it  is  to  furnish  a  house  differently  from 
other  people  :  one  becomes  a  bd  esprit,  and  a  Mec^enas,  imme- 
diately. Believe  me,  if  you  are  rich  enough  to  afford  it,  that 
there  is  no  passport  to  fame  like  eccentricity.  Seymour — my 
coat.  I  am  at  your  service,  Pelham.  Believe  hereafter  that  one 
may  dress  well  in  a  short  time  !  " 

"  One  may  do  it,  but  not  two — allons  .■'" 

I  observed  that  Glanville  was  dressed  in  the  deepest  mourning, 
and  imagined,  from  that  circumstance,  and  his  accession  to  the 
title  I  heard  applied  to  him  for  the  first  time,  that  his  father  was 
only  just  dead.  In  this  opinion  I  was  soon  undeceived.  He 
had  been  dead  for  some  years.  Glanville  spoke  to  me  of  his 
family  : — "  To  my  mother,"  said  he,  "  I  am  particularly  anxious 
to  introduce  you  ;  of  my  sister  I  say  nothing  ;  I  expect  you  to  be 
surprised  with  her.  I  love  her  more  than  any  thing  on  earth 
funv,''  and  as  Glanville  said  this,  a  paler  shade  passed  over  his 
face. 

We  were  in  the  Park — Lady  Roseville  passed  us — we  both 
bowed  to  her ;  as  she  returned  our  greeting,  I  was  struck  with 
the  deep  and  sudden  blush  which  overspread  her  countenance- 
"That  can't  be  for  me !"  thought  L  I  looked  towards  Glanville: 
his  countenance  had  recovered  its  serenity,  and  was  settled  into 
its  usual  proud,  but  not  displeasing,  calmness  of  expression. 

"  Do  you  know  Lady  Roseville  well .''  "  said  L 

"  Ver}^,"  answered  Glanville,  laconically,  and  changed  the  con- 
versation. As  we  were  leaving  the  Park,  through  Cumberland 
Gate,  we  were  stopped  by  a  blockade  of  carriages  ;  a  voice, 
loud,  harsh,  and  vulgarly  accented,  called  out  to  Glanville  by  his 
name.     I  turned,  and  saw  Thornton. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Pelham,  drive  on,"  cried  Glanville  ;  "  let 
me,  for  once,  escape  that  atrocious  plebeian." 

Thornton  was  crossing  the  road  towards  us  ;  I  waved  my 
hand  to  him  civilly  enough  (for  I  never  cut  an}body),  and  drove 
rapidly  through  the  other  gate,  without  appearing  to  notice  his 
design  of  speaking  to  us. 

"Thank  Heaven  !  "  said  Glanville,  and  sank  back  m  a  reverie, 
from  which  I  could  not  awaken  him,  till  he  was  set  down  ;it  his 
own  door. 

When  I  returned  to  Mivart's,  I  found  a  card  from  Lord  Daw- 
ton,  and  a  letter  from  my  mother. 


i6o  PELHAM;  OK, 

"  My  dear  Henry,  (began  the  letter,) 

"  Lord  Dawton  having  kindly  promised  to  call  upon  )'ou,  per- 
sonally, with  this  note,  I  cannot  resist  the  opportunity  that 
promise  affords  me,  of  saying  how  desirous  I  am  that  you  should 
cultivate  his  acquaintance.  He  is,  you  know,  among  the  most 
prominent  leaders  of  the  Opposition  :  and  should  the  Whigs,  by 
any  possible  chance,  ever  come  into  power,  he  would  have  a 
great  chance  of  becoming  prime  minister.  I  trust,  however, 
that  you  will  not  adopt  that  side  of  the  question.  The  Whigs 
are  a  horrid  set  of  people  {politically  speaking),  vote  for  the 
Roman  Catholics,  and  never  get  into  place  ;  they  give  very  good 
dinners,  however,  and  till  you  have  decided  upon  your  politics, 
you  may  as  well  make  the  most  of  them.  I  hope,  by-the-by,  that 
you  will  see  a  great  deal  of  Lord  Vincent  :  every  one  speaks 
highly  of  his  talents ;  and  only  two  weeks  ago,  he  said,  publicly, 
that  he  thought  you  the  most  promising  young  man,  and  the  most 
naturally  clever  person,  he  had  ever  met.     I  hope  that  you  will  be- 

attentive  to  your  parliamentary  duties  ;  and, oh,  Henry,  be 

sure  that  you  see  Cartwright,  the  dentist,  as  soon  as  possible. 

"I  intend  hastening  to  London  three  weeks  earlier  than  I  had 
intended,  in  order  to  be  useful  to  you.  I  have  written  already 
to  dear  Lady  Roseville,  begging  her  to  introduce  you  at  Lady 

C.'s  and  Lady ;  the  only  places  worth  going  to  at  present. 

They  tell  me  there  is  a  horrid,  vulgar,  ignorant  book  come  out- 

about .     As  3'ou  ought  to  be  well  versed  in  modern  liter 

ature,  I  hope  you  will  read  it,  and  give  me  your  opinion.    Adieu, 
my  dear  Henry,  ever  your  affectionate  mother, 

"Frances  Pelham." 

I  was  still  at  my  solitary  dinner,  when  the  following  note  was 
brought  me  from  Lady  Roseville  : — 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pelham, 

"  Lady  Frances  wishes   Lady  C to  be   made  acquainted 

with  you  ;  this  is  her  night,  and  I  therefore  enclose  you   a  card. 

As  I  dine  at House,  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  making 

your  ^loge  before  your  arrival.     Yours  sincerely, 

"  C.  Roseville.'' 

I  wonder,  thought  I,  as  I  made  my  toilet,  whether  or  not  Lady 
Roseville  is  enamoured  of  her  new  correspondent  ?  I  went  very 
early,  and  before  I  retired,  my  vanity  was  undeceived.  Lady 
Roseville  was  playing  hartt^,  when  I  entered.  She  beckoned  to 
me  to   approach.     I  did.     Her  antagonist  was   Mr.  Bedford,  a 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  i6t 

natural  son  of  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  and  one  of  the  best  na- 
tured  and  best  looking  dandies  about  town  :  there  was,  of 
course,  a  great  crowd  round  the  table.  Lady  Roseville  played 
incomparably  ;  bets  were  high  in  her  favor.  Suddenly  her  coun- 
tenance changed — her  hand  trembled — her  presence  or  mind 
forsook  her.  She  lost  the  game.  I  looked  up,  and  saw  just 
opposite  to  her,  but  apparently  quite  careless  and  unmoved, 
Reginald  Glanville.  We  had  only  time  to  exchange  nods,  for 
Lady  Roseville,  rising  from  the  table,  took  my  arm,  and  walked 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  in  order  to  introduce  me  to  my 
hostess. 

I  spoke  to  her  a  few  words,  but  she  was  absent  and  inatten- 
tive  ;  my  penetration  required  no  farther  proof  to  convince  me 
that  she  was  not  wholly  insensible  to  the  attractions  of  Glan- 
ville.    Lady was  as  civil  and  silly  as  the  generality  of  Lady 

Blanks  are  :  and  feeling  very  much  bored,  I  soon  retired  to  an 
obscurer  corner  of  the  room.     Here  Glanville  joined  me. 

"  It  is  but  seldom,"  said  he,  "  that  I  come  to  these  places  ;  to- 
night my  sister  persuaded  me  to  venture  forth," 

"  Is  she  here  ?  "  said  I. 

"  She  is,"  answered  he ;  "  she  has  just  gone  into  the  refresh- 
ment-room with  my  mother;  and  when  she  returns,  I  will  intro- 
duce you." 

While  Glanville  was  yet  speaking,  three  middle-aged  ladies, 
who  had  been  talking  together  with  great  vehemence  for  the 
last  ten  minutes,  approached  us. 

"  Which  is  he  i* — which  is  he  }  "  said  two  of  them,  in  no  in- 
audible accents. 

"  This,"  replied  the  third ;  and  coming  up  to  Glanville,  she 
addressed  liim,  to  my  great  astonishment,  in  terms  of  the  most 
hyperbolical  panegyric. 

"  Your  work  is  wonderful  !  wonderful  !  "  said  she. 

"  Oh  !  quite — quite  !  "  echoed  the  other  two. 

"  I  can't  say,"  recommended  the  Coryphcca,  "  that  I  like  the 
moral — at  least  not  quite  ;  no,  not  quite." 

"Not  quite,"  repeated  her  coadjutrices. 

Glanville  drew  himself  up  with  his  most  stately  air,  and  after 
three  profound  bows,  accompanied  by  a  smile  of  the  most  un- 
equivocal contempt,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  sauntered  away 

"  Did  your  grace  ever  see  such  a  bear  ?  "  said  one  of  tlu 
echoes. 

"Never,"  said  the  Duchess,  with  a  mortified  air;  "but  1 
will  have  him  yet.      How  handsome  he  is,  for  an  author  !  " 


l62  PELHAM;  OK, 

I  was  descending  the  stairs  in  the  last  state  of  ennui,  when 
Glanville  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"  Shall  I  take  you  home  ?  "  said  he  :  "  my  carriage  has  just 
drawn  up." 

I  was  too  glad  to  answer  in  the  affirmative. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  an  author  ?  "  said  I,  when  we 
were  seated  in  Glanville's  carriage. 

"  Not  many  days,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  tried  one  resource 
after  another — all — all  in  vain.  Oh,  God  !  that  for  me  there 
could  exist  such  a  blessing  as  fiction !  Must  I  be  ever  the 
martyr  of  one  burning,  lasting,  indelible  truth!'' 

Glanville  uttered  these  words  with  a  peculiar  wildness  and 
energy  of  tone  :  he  then  paused  abruptly  for  a  minute,  and  con- 
tinued, with  an  altered  voice — 

"  Never,  my  dear  Pelham,  be  tempted  by  any  inducement 
into  the  pleasing  errors  of  print;  from  that  moment  you  are 
public  property  ;  and  the  last  monster  at  Exeter  'Change  has 
more  liberty  than  you ;  but  here  we  are  at  Mivart's.  Adieu — ■ 
I  will  call  on  you  to-morrow,  if  my  wreched  state  of  health  will 
allow  me." 

And  with  these  words  we  parted. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

Ambition  is  a  lottery,  where,  however  uneven  the  chances,  there  are  somi 
prizes;  but  in  dissipation,  every  one  draws  a  blank. 

Letters  of  "Sii-Eva.^^  Montague. 

The  season  was  not  far  advanced  before  I  grew  heartily  tired 
of  what  are  nicknamed  its  gaieties  ;  I  shrank,  by  rapid  degrees, 
into  a  very  small  orbit,  from  which  I  rarely  moved.  I  had  al- 
ready established  a  certain  reputation  for  eccentricity,  fashion, 
and  to  my  great  astonishment,  also  for  talent ;  and  my  pride 
was  satisfied  with  finding  myself  universally  run  after,  whilst  I 
indulged  my  inclinations  by  rendering  myself  universally  scarce. 
I  saw  much  of  Vincent,  whose  varied  acquirements  and  great  tal- 
ents became  more  and  more  perceptible,  both  as  my  own  ac- 
quaintance with  him  increased,  and  as  the  political  events  with 
which  that  year  was  pregnant,  called  forth  their  exertion  and 
display.  I  went  occasionally  to  Lady  Roseville's,  and  was 
always  treated  rather  as  a  long-known  friend,  than  an  ordinary 
acquaintance;   nor  did  1  undervalue  this  distinction,  for  it  was 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  163 

part  of  her  pride  to  render  her  house  not  only  as  splendid,  but 
as  agreeable,  as  her  command  over  society  enabled  her  to  effect. 

At  the  House  of  Commons  my  visits  would  have  been  duly 
paid,  but  for  one  trifling  occurrence,  upon  which,  as  it  is  a  very 
sore  subject  I  shall  dwell  as  briefly  as  possible.  I  had  scarcely 
taken  my  seat  before  I  was  forced  to  relinquish  it.  My  un- 
successful opponent,  Mr.  Lufton,  preferred  a  petition  against  me, 
for  what  he  called  undue  means.  Heaven  knows  what  he 
meant ;  I  am  sure  the  House  did  not,  for  they  turned  me  out, 
and  declared  Mr.  Lufton  duly  elected. 

Never  was  there  such  a  commotion  in  the  Glenmorris  family 
before.  My  uncle  was  seized  with  the  gout  in  his  stomach,  and 
my  mother  shut  herself  up  with  Tremaine  and  one  China  mon- 
ster for  a  whole  week.  As  for  me,  though  I  writhed  at  heart,  I 
bore  the  calamity  philosophically  enough  in  external  appearance  ; 
nor  did  I  the  less  busy  myself  in  political  matters  :  with  what 
address  and  success,  good  or  bad,  I  endeavored  to  supply  the 
loss  of  my  parliamentary  influence,  the  reader  will  see,  when  it 
suits  the  plot  of  this  history  to  touch  upon  such  topics 

Granville  I  saw  continually.  When  in  tolerable  spirits,  he 
was  an  entertaining,  though  never  a  frank  nor  a  communicative 
companion.  His  conversation  then  was  lively,  yet  without  wit, 
and  sarcastic,  though  without  bitterness.  It  abounded  also  in 
philosophical  reflections  and  terse  maxims,  which  always  brought 
improvement,  or,  at  the  worst,  allowed  discussion.  He  was  a 
man  of  even  vast  powers — of  deep  thought — of  luxuriant,  though 
dark  im.agination,  and  of  great  miscellaneous,  though,  perhaps, 
ill-arranged  erudition.  He  was  fond  of  paradoxes  in  reasoning, 
and  supported  them  with  a  subtlety  and  strength  of  mind,  which 
Vincent,  who  admired  him  greatly,  told  me  he  had  never  seen 
surpassed.  He  was  subject,  at  times,  to  a  gloom  and  despond- 
ency, which  seemed  almost  like  aberation  of  intellect.  At  those 
hours  he  would  remain  perfectly  silent,  and  apparently  forgetful 
of  my  presence,  and  of  ever)'  object  around  him. 

It  was  only  then,  when  the  play  of  his  countenance  was  van- 
ished, and  his  features  were  still  and  set,  that  you  saw  in  their 
full  extent,  the  dark  and  deep  traces  of  premature  decay.  His 
check  was  hollow  and  hueless,  his  eye  dim,  and  of  that  visionary 
and  glassy  aspect  which  is  never  seen  but  in  great  mental  or 
bodily  disease,  and  which  according  to  the  superstitions  of  some 
nations,  implies  a  mysterious  and  unearthly  communion  of  the 
soul  with  the  beings  of  another  world.  From  these  trances  he 
would  sometimes  start  abruptly,  and  renew  any  conversation 
broken  off  before,  as  if  wholly  unconscious  of  the  length  of  his 


i64  PELHAM ;  OR, 

rev-erie.  At  others,  he  would  rise  slowly  from  his  seat,  and  re- 
tire into  his  own  apartment,  from  which  he  never  emerged  during 
the  lest  of  the  day. 

But  the  reader  must  bear  in  mind  that  there  was  nothing  arti- 
ficial or  affected  in  his  musings,  of  whatever  complexion  they 
might  be  ;  nothing  like  the  dramatic  brown  studies,  and  quick 
starts,  which  young  gentlemen,  in  love  with  Lara  and  Lord  By- 
ron, are  apt  to  practice.  There  never,  indeed,  was  a  character 
that  possessed  less  cant  of  any  description.  His  work,  which  was 
a  singular,  wild  tale — of  mingled  passion  and  reflection — was, 
perhaps,  of  too  original,  certainly  of  too  abstract  a  nature,  to 
suit  the  ordinary  novel-readers  of  the  day.  It  did  not  acquire 
popularity  for  itself,  but  it  gained  great  reputation  for  the  au- 
thor. It  also  inspired  every  one  who  read  it  with  a  vague  and 
indescribable  interest  to  see  and  know  the  person  who  had  com- 
posed so  singular  a  work. 

This  interest  he  was  the  first  to  laugh  at,  and  to  disappoint. 
He  shrank  from  all  admiration  and  from  all  sympathy.  At  the 
moment  when  a  crowd  assembled  round  him,  and  every  ear  was 
bent  to  catch  the  words,  which  came  alike  from  so  beautiful  a 
lip,  and  so  strange  and  imaginative  a  mind,  it  was  his  pleasure 
to  utter  some  sentiment  totally  different  from  his  written  opin- 
ions, and  utterly  destructive  of  the  sensation  he  had  excited. 
But  it  was  very  rarely  that  he  exposed  himself  to  these  "  trials 
of  an  author."  He  went  out  little  to  any  other  house  but  Lady 
Roseville's,  and  it  was  seldom  more  than  once  a  week  that  he 
was  seen  there.  Lonely,  and  singular  in  mind  and  habits,  he 
lived  in  the  world  like  a  person  occupied  by  a  separate  object, 
and  possessed  of  a  separate  existence  from  that  of  his  fellow-be- 
ings. He  was  luxurious  and  splendid,  beyond  all  men,  in  his 
habits,  rather  than  his  tastes.  His  table  groaned  beneath  a 
weight  of  silver,  too  costly  for  the  daily  service  even  of  a  prince ; 
but  he  had  no  pleasure  in  surveying  it.  His  wines  and  viands 
were  of  the  most  exquisite  description  ;  but  he  scarcely  tasted 
them.  Yet,  what  may  seem  inconsistent,  he  was  averse  to  all 
ostentation  and  show  in  the  eyes  of  others.  He  admitted  very 
few  into  his  society — no  one  so  intimately  as  myself.  I  never 
once  saw  more  than  three  persons  at  the  table.  He  seemed,  in 
his  taste  for  the  arts,  in  his  love  of  literature,  and  his  pursuit  af- 
ter fame,  to  be  as  he  himself  said,  eternally  endeavoring  to  for- 
get, and  eternally  brought  back  to  remembrance. 

"  I  pity  that  man  even  more  than  I  admire  him,"  said  Vincent 
to  me,  one  night  when  we  were  walking  home  from  Glanville's 
house.     "  He    is,  indeed,  the   decease  nulla  medicabilis  herb^ 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  165 

Whether  it  is  the  past  or  the  present  that  afflicts  him — whether 
it  is  the  memory  of  past  evil,  or  the  satiety  of  present  good,  he 
has  taken  to  his  heart  the  bitterest  philosophy  of  life.  He  does 
not  reject  its  blessings — he  gathers  them  around  him,  but  as  a 
stone  gathers  moss — cold,  hard  unsoftened  by  the  freshness  and 
the  greenness  which  surround  it.  As  a  circle  can  only  touch 
a  circle  in  one  place,  everything  that  life  presents  to  him,  wher- 
ever it  comes  from — to  whatever  portion  of  his  soul  it  is  applied 
— can  find  but  one  point  of  contact ;  and  that  is  the  soreness 
of  affliction  :  whether  it  \i\\\(tohUvio  or  the  otiiim  that  he  requires, 
he  finds  equally  that  he  is  for  ever  in  want  of  one  treasure  : — 
*  negiie  gemmis  neque purpura  venule  nee  auro.^  " 


CHAPTER  XLVHI. 

Mons.  Joiirdain.  Etes-vous  fou  de  Taller  quereller — lui  qui  entend  la 
tierce  et  la  quarte,  et  qui  sait  tuer  un  homme  par  raison  demonstrative  ? 

Le  M&itre  a  Danser,  Je  me  moque  de  sa  raison  demonstrative,  et  de  sa 
tierce  et  de  sa  quarte. — Molieke. 

"  Hollo,  my  good  friend  ;  how  are  you  } — d d  glad  to  see 

you  in  England,"  vociferated  a  loud,  clear,  good-humored  voice, 
one  cold  morning,  as  I  was  shivering  down  Brook-street  into 
Bond-street.  I  turned,  and  beheld  Lord  Uartmore,  of  Rocker 
de  Cancale  memory.  1  returned  his  greeting  with  the  same  cor- 
diality with  which  it  was  given  ;  and  I  was  forthwith  saddled 
with  Dartmore's  arm,  and  dragged  up  Bund-street,  into  that 
borough  of  all  noisy,  riotous,  unrefined  good  fellows,  yclept 
's  Hotel. 

Here  we  were  soon  plunged  into  a  small,  low  apartment,  which 
Dartmore  informed  me  was  his  room,  and  which  was  crowded 
with  a  score  of  the  most  stalwart  youths  that  I  ever  saw  out  of  a 
marching  regiment. 

Dartmore  was  still  gloriously  redolent  of  O.xford  :  his  com- 
panions were  all  extracts  from  Christ-church  ;  and  his  favorite 
occupations  were  boxing  and  hunting — scenes  at  the  Fives' 
Courts — nights  in  the  Cider  Cellar — and  mornings  at  Bow- 
street.  Figure  to  yourself  a  fitter  companion  for  the  hero  and 
writer  of  these  adventures  !  The  table  was  covered  with  box- 
ing-gloves, single-sticks,  two  ponderous  pair  of  dumb-bells,  a 
large  pewter  pot  of  porter,  and  four  foils  ;  one  snapped  in  the 
midille. 


1 66  PELHAM ;  OR, 

"  Well,"  cried  Dartmore,  to  two  strapping  youths,  with  their 
coats  off,  "  which  was  the  conqueror  ?  " 

"Oh,  it  is  not  yet  decided,"  was  the  answer;  and  forthwith 
the  bigger  one  hit  the  lesser  a  blow  with  his  boxing-glove,  hea\'y 
enough  to  have  felled  Ulysses,  who,  if  I  recollect  aright,  was 
rather  '•'■  a  game  blood  ^'  in  such  encounters. 

This  slight  salute  was  forthwith  the  prelude  to  an  encounter, 
which  the  whole  train  crow^ded  round  to  witness ; — I,  among 
the  rest,  pretending  an  equal  ardor,  and  an  equal  interest,  and 
hiding,  like  many  persons  in  a  similar  predicament,  a  most 
trembling  spirit  beneath  a  most  valorous  exterior. 

When  the  match  (which  terminated  in  favor  of  the  lesser 
champion)  was  over,  "  Come,  Pelham,"  said  Dartmore,  "  let  me 
take  up  the  gloves  with  you  !  " 

"  You  are  too  good  !  "  said  I,  for  the  first  time  using  my 
drawing-room  drawl.     A  wink  and  a  grin  went  round  the  room. 

"  Well,  then,  will  you  fence  with  Staunton,  or  play  at  single- 
stick with  me  ?  "  said  the  short,  thick,  bullying,  impudent,  vul- 
gar Earl  of  Calton. 

"  Why,"  answered  I,  "  T  am  a  poor  hand  at  the  foils,  and  a 
still  worse  at  the  sticks  ;  but  I  have  no  objection  to  exchange  a 
cut  or  two  at  the  latter  with  Lord  Calton." 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  the  good-natured  Dartmore  ; — "  no  !  Calton 
is  the  best  stick-player  I  ever  knew  ;  "  and  then  whispering  to 
me,  he  added,  "  and  the  hardest  hitter — and  he  never  spares, 
either." 

"Really,"  said  I  aloud,  in  my  most  affected  tone,  "it  is  a  great 
pit}',  for  I  am  excessively  delicate  ;  but  as  I  said  I  would  engage 
him,  I  don't  like  to  retract.  Pray  let  me  look  at  the  hilt :  I  hope 
the  basket  is  strong :  I  would  not  have  my  knuckles  rapped  foi 
the  world — now  for  it.  I'm  in  a  deuced  fright,  Dartmore  ;  "  and 
so  saying,  and  inwardly  chuckling  at  the  universal  pleasure  de- 
picted in  the  countenances  of  Calton  and  the  by-standers,  who 
were  all  rejoiced  at  the  idea  of  the  "  dandy  being  drubbed,"  I 
took  the  stick,  and  pretended  great  awkwardness,  and  lack  of 
grace  in  the  position  I  chose. 

Calton  placed  himself  in  the  most  scientific  attitude,  assuming 
at  the  same  time  an  air  of  hautetir  and  nonchalame,  which  seemed 
to  call  for  the  admiration  it  met. 

"  Do  we  allow  hard  hitting  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh  !  by  all  means,"  answered  Calton,  eagerly. 

"Well,"  said  I,  settling  my  own  chapeau,  "had  not  you  battel 
put  on  your  hat  ?  " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAiV.  167 

"  Oh  no,"  answered  Calton,  imperiously;  "  I  can  take  pretty 
good  care  of  my  head ; "  and  with  these  words  we  commenced. 

I  remained  at  first  nearly  upright,  not  availing  myself  in  the 
least  of  my  superiority  in  height,  and  only  acting  on  the  defen- 
sive. Calton  played  well  enough  for  a  gentleman  ;  but  he  was 
no  match  for  one\vho  had,  at  the  age  of  thirteen  beat  the  Life 
Guardsmen  at  Angelo's.  Suddenly,  when  I  had  excited  a  gen- 
eral laugh  at  the  clumsy  success  with  which  I  warded  off  a  most 
rapid  attack  of  Calton's,  I  changed  my  position,  and  keeping 
Calton  at  arm's  length  till  I  had  driven  him  towards  a  corner, 
I  took  advantage  of  a  haughty  imprudence  on  his  part,  and,  by 
a  comiuon  enough  move  in  the  game,  drew  back  from  a  stroke 
aimed  at  my  limbs,  and  suffered  the  whole  weight  of  my  weapon 
to  fall  so  heavily  upon  his  head,  that  I  felled  him  to  the  ground 
in  an  instant. 

I  was  sorry  for  the  severity  of  the  stroke  the  moment  after  it 
was  inflicted  ;  but  never  was  punishment  more  deserved.  We 
picked  up  the  discomfited  hero,  and  placed  him  on  a  chair  to 
recover  his  senses  ;  meanwhile  I  received  the  congratulations  of 
the  conclave  with  a  frank  alteration  of  manner  which  delighted 
them ;  and  I  found  it  impossible  to  get  away  till  I  had  promised 
to  dine  with  Dartmore,  and  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  the 
society  of  his  friends. 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

-Heroes  mischievously  gay, 


Lords  of  the  street  and  terrors  of  the  way, 
Flushed  as  they  are  with  folly,  youth,  and  wine. 

Johnson's  London. 

Hoi.  Novi  hominem  tanquam  te — his  humor  is  lofty,  his  discourse  per- 
emptory, his  tongue  filed,  his  eye  ambitious,  his  gait  majestical,  and  his 
general  behavior  vain,  ridiculous,  and  thrasonical. — Shakspeare. 

I  WENT  a  little  after  seven  o'clock  to  keep  my  dinner  engage- 

inent  at 's  ;  for  very  young  men  are   seldom  unpunctual  at 

dinner.  We  sat  down,  six  in  number,  to  a  repast  at  once  incredi- 
bly bad,  and  ridiculously  extravagant;  turtle  without  fat — veni- 
son without  flavor — champagne  with  the  taste  of  a  gooseberry, 
and  hock  with  the  properties  of  a  pomegranate.*  Such  is  the 
constant  habit  of  young  men  :  they  think  anything  expensive  is 
necessarily  good,  and  they  purchase  poison  at  a  dearer  rate  than 
the  most  medicine-loving  hypochondriac  in  England  ! 

*  Which  is  not  an  astringent  fruit. 


I6S  PELHAM ;  OR, 

Of  course,  all  the  knot  declared  the  dinner  was  superb;  called 
in  the  master  to  eulogize  him  in  person,  and  made  him,  to  his 
infinite  dismay,  swallow  a  bumper  of  his  own  hock.  Poor 
man  !  they  mistook  his  reluctance  for  his  difiidence,  and  forced 
him  to  wash  it  away  in  another  potation.  With  many  a  wry  face 
of  grateful  humility,  he  left  the  room,  and  we  then  proceeded 
to  pass  the  bottle  with  the  suicidal  determination  of  defeated 
Romans.  You  may  imagine  that  we  were  not  long  in  arriving 
at  the  devoutly  wished-for  consummation  of  comfortable  ine- 
briety ;  and  with  our  eyes  reeling,  our  cheeks  burning,  and  our 
brave  spirits  full  ripe  for  a  quarrel,  we  sallied  out  at  eleven 
o'clock,  vowing  death,  dread,  and  destruction  to  all  the  sober 
portion  of  his  majesty's  subjects. 

We  came  to  a  dead  halt  in  Arlington-street,  which,  as  it  was 
the  quietest  spot  in  the  neighborhood,  we  deemed  a  fitting 
place  for  the  arrangement  of  our  forces.  Dartmore,  Staunton 
(a  tall,  thin,  well-formed,  silly  youth),  and  myself,  marched  first, 
and  the  remaining  three  followed.  We  gave  each  other  the 
most  judicious  admonitions  as  to  propriety  of  conduct,  and  then, 
with  a  shout  that  alarmed  the  whole  street,  we  renewed  our  wav. 
We  passed  on  safely  enough  till  we  got  to  Charing-Cross,  having 
only  been  thrice  upbraided  by  the  watchmen,  and  once  threat- 
ened by  two  carmen  of  prodigious  size,  to  whose  wives  or  sweet- 
hearts we  had,  to  our  infinite  peril,  made  some  gentle  overtures. 
When,  however,  we  had  just  passed  the  Opera  Colonnade,  we 
were  accosted  by  a  bevy  of  buxom  Cyprians,  as  merry  and  as 
drunk  as  ourselves.  We  halted  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  midst 
of  the  kennel,  to  confabulate  with  our  new  friends  and  a  very 
amicable  and  intellectual  conversation  ensued.  Dartmore  was 
an  adept  in  the  art  of  slang,  and  he  found  himself  fairly  matched 
by  more  than  one  of  the  fair  and  gentle  creatures  by  whom  we 
were  surrounded.  Just,  however,  as  we  were  all  in  high  glee, 
Staunton  made  a  trifling  discovery,  which  turned  the  merriment 
of  the  whole  scene  into  strife,  war,  and  confusion.  A  bounc- 
ing lass,  whose  hands  were  as  ready  as  her  charms,  had  quietly 
helped  herself  to  a  watch  which  Staunton  wore  a  al  mode,  in  his 
waistcoat-pocket.  Drunken  as  the  youth  was  at  that  time,  and 
dull  as  he  was  at  all  others,  he  was  not  without  the  instinctive 
penetration  with  which  all  human  bipeds  watch  over  their  individ- 
ual goods  and  chattels.  He  sprang  aside  from  the  endear- 
ments of  the  syren,  grasped  her  arm,  and  in  a  voice  of  querulous 
indignation  accused  her  of  the  theft. 

"  Then  rose  the  cry  of  women — shrill 
As  shriek  of  goshawk  on  the  hill." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  169 

Never  were  my  ears  so  stunned.  The  angry  authors  in  the 
adventures  of  Gil  Bias  were  nothing  to  the  disputants  in  the 
kennel  at  Charing-Cross ;  we  rowed,  swore,  slanged,  with  a 
Christian  meekness  and  forbearance  which  would  have  rejoiced 
Mr.  Wilberforce  to  the  heart,  and  we  were  already  preparing 
ourselves  for  a  more  striking  engagement,  when  we  were  most 
unwelcomely  interrupted  by  the  presence  of  three  watchmen. 

"Take  away  this — this — d d  woman,"  hiccuped  out  Staun- 
ton, "  she  has  sto — len — (hiccup) — my  watch  " — (hiccup). 

"  No  such  thing,  watchman,"  hallooed  out  the  accused,  "  the 

b counter-skipper  never  had  any  watch  !  he  only  filched  a 

twopenny-halfpenny  gilt-chain  out  of  his  master,  Levi,  the  pawn- 
broker's window,  and  stuck  it  in  his  eel-skin  to  make  a  show  :  ye 
did,  ye  pitiful,  lanky-chopped  son  of  a  dog-fish,  ye  did." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  watchman,  "  move  on,  move  on." 

"  You  be  d d,  for  a  Charley  !  "  said  one  of  our  gang. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  master  jackanapes,  I  shall  give  you  a  cooling  in 
the  watch-house,  if  you  tips  us  any  of  your  jaw.  I  dare  say  the 
young  ojnan  here,  is  quite  right  about  ye,  and  ye  never  had  any 
watch  at  all,  at  all." 

"  You  are  a  liar  !  "  cried  Staunton  ;  "  and  you  are  all  in  with 
each  other,  like  a  pack  of  rogues  as  you  are." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  young  gemman,"  said  another  watchman,* 
who  was  a  more  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  signor  than  his 
comrades,  "if  you  do  not  move  on  instantly,  and  let  those 
decent  young  omen  alone,  I'll  take  you  all  up  before  Sir  Rich- 
ard." 

*'  Charley,  my  boy,"  said  Dartmore,  "  did  you  ever  get 
thrashed  for  impertinence  ?  " 

The  last  mentioned  watchman  took  upon  himself  the  reply  to 
this  interrogatory  by  a  very  summary  proceeding  :  he  collared 
Dartmore,  and  his  companions  did  the  same  kind  ofiice  to  us. 
This  action  was  not  committed  with  impunity :  in  an  instant 
two  of  the  moon's  minions,  staffs,  lanterns,  and  all,  were  meas- 
uring their  length  at  the  foot  of  their  namesake  of  royal  mem- 
ory; the  remaining  Dogberry  was,  however,  a  tougher  assailant; 
he   held    Staunton  so  firmly  in  his  gripe,  that  the  poor  youth 

could  scarcely  breathe  out  a  faint  and  feeble  d ye  of  defiv 

ance,  and  with  his  disengaged  hand  he  made  such  an  admirable 
use  of  his  rattle,  that  we  were  surrounded  in  a  (rice. 

As  when  an  ant-hill  is  invaded,  from  every  quarter  and  crev» 
ice  of  the  mound  arise  and  pour  out  an  angry  host,  of  whose 

*  The  reader  wHI  remember  U1.1t  this  work  w:is  written  before  tlic  institution  of  the 
New  Pohce. 


I70  PELHAM ;  OR, 

previous  existence  the  unwar}'  assailant  had  not  dreamt ;  so  from 
every  lane,  and  alley,  and  street,  and  crossing,  came  fast  and  far 
the  champions  of  the  night. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Dartmore,  "we  must  fly;  smn'e  qui  peuC 
We  wanted  no  stronger  admonition,  and  accordingly,  all  of  us 
who  were  able,  set  off  with  the  utmost  velocity  with  which  God 
had  gifted  us.  I  have  some  faint  recollection  that  I  myself 
headed  the  flight.  I  remember  well  that  I  dashed  up  the  Strand, 
and  dashed  down  a  singular  little  shed,  from  which  emanated 
the  steam  of  tea,  and  a  sharp,  querulous  scream  of  "  All  hot — 
all  hot ;  a  penny  a  pint."  I  see,  now,  by  the  dim  light  of  retro- 
spection, a  vision  of  an  old  woman  in  the  kennel,  and  a  pewter 
pot  of  mysterious  ingredients  precipitated  into  a  greengrocer's 
shop,  "  te  virides  inter  /auros,'"  as  Vincent  would  have  said.  On 
we  went,  faster  and  faster,  as  the  rattle  rang  in  our  ears,  and  the 
tramp  of  the  enemy  echoed  after  us  in  hot  pursuit. 

"  The  devil  take  the  hindmost,"  said  Dartmore,  breathlessly 
(as  he  kept  up  with  me). 

"  The  watchman  has  saved  his  majesty  the  trouble,"  answered 
I,  looking  back  and  seeing  one  of  our  friends  in  the  clutch  of 
the  pursuers. 

"  On,  on  !  "  was  Dartmore's  only  reply. 

At  last,  after  innumerable  perils,  and  various  immersements 
into  back  passages,  and  courts,  and  alleys,  which,  like  the  chi- 
caneries of  law,  preserved  and  befriended  us,  in  spite  of  all  the 
efforts  of  justice,  we  fairly  found  ourselves  in  safety  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  square. 

Here  we  paused,  and  after  ascertaining  our  individual  safeties, 
we  looked  round  to  ascertain  the  sum-total  of  the  general  loss. 
Alas  !  we  were  woefully  shorn  of  our  beans — we  were  reduced 
one-half  :  only  three  out  of  the  six  survived  the  conflict  and  the 
flight. 

"  Half,"  (said  the  companion  of  Dartmore  and  myself  whose 
name  was  Tringle,  and  who  was  a  dabbler  in  science,  of  which 
he  was  not  a  little  vain)  "  half  is  less  worthy  than  the  whole ; 
but  the  half  is  more  worthy  than  nonentity." 

"  An  axiom,"  said  I,  "  not  to  be  disputed  ;  but  now  that  we 
are  safe,  and  have  time  to  think  about  it,  are  you  not  slightly  of 
opinion  that  we  behaved  somewhat  scurvily  to  our  better  half, 
in  leaving  it  so  quietly  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines  ? " 

"  By  no  means,"  answered  Dartmore,  "  In  a  party,  whose 
members  make  no  pretensions  to  sobriety,  it  would  be  too  hard 
to  expect  that  persons  who  are  scarcely  capable  of  taking  care 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  \;\ 

of  themselves  should  take  care  of  other  people.  No ;  we  have 
in  all  these  exploits,  only  the  one  maxim  of  self-preservation." 

"  Allow  me,"  said  Tringle,  seizing  me  by  the  coat,  "  to  ex- 
plain it  to  you  on  scientific  principles.  You  will  find,  in  hydro- 
statics, that  the  attraction  of  cohesion  is  far  less  powerful  in 
fluids  than  in  solids  ;  viz.  that  persons  who  have  been  convert- 
ing their  ^  solid  flesh  '  into  wine-skins,  cannot  stick  so  close  to 
one  another  as  when  they  are  sober." 

"  Bravo,  Tringle  !  "  cried  Dartmore  ;  "  and  now,  Pelham,  I 
hope  your  delicate  scruples  are,  after  so  luminous  an  edaircisse- 
me?it,  set  at  rest  for  ever." 

"You  have  convinced  me,"  said  I;  "let  us  leave  the  un- 
fortunates to  their  fate,  and  Sir  Richard.  What  is  now  to  be 
done  > " 

"Why,  in  the  first  place,"  answered  Dartmore,  "let  us  re- 
connoitre.    Does  any  one  know  this  spot  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  both  of  us.  We  inquired  of  an  old  fellow,  who 
was  tottering  home  under  the  same  Bacchanalian  auspices  as 
ourselves,  and  found  we  were  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 

"  Which  shall  we  do  ? "  asked  I,  "  stroll  home  ;  or  parade  the 
streets,  visit  the  Cider-Cellar,  and  the  Finish,  and  kiss  the  first 
lass  we  meet  in  the  morning  bringing  her  charms  and  carrots  to 
Covent  Garden  Market  ?  " 

"The  latter,"  cried  Dartmore  and  Ti ingle,  "without  doubt." 

"  Come,  then,"  said  I,  "  let  us  investigate  Holborn,  and  dip 
into  St.  Giles's,  and  then  find  our  way  into  some  more  known 
corner  of  the  globe." 

"Amen!"  said  Dartmore,  and  accordingly  we  renewed  our 
march.  We  wound  along  a  narrow  lane,  tolerably  well  known, 
I  imagine,  to  the  gentleman  of  the  quill,  and  entered  Holborn. 
There  was  a  beautiful  still  moon  above  us,  which  cast  its  light 
over  a  drowsy  stand  of  hackney  coaches,  and  shed  a  'silver 
sadness '  over  the  thin  visages  and  sombre  vestments  of  two 
guardians  of  the  night,  who  regarded  us,  we  thought,  with  a 
very  ominous  aspect  of  suspicion. 

We  strolled  along,  leisurely  enough,  till  we  were  interrupted 
by  a  miserable-looking  crowd,  assembled  round  a  dull,  dingy, 
melancholy  shop,  from  which  gleamed  a  solitary  candle,  whose 
long,  spinster-like  wick  was  flirting  away  with  an  east  wind,  at  a 
most  unconscionable  rate.  Upon  the  haggard  and  worn  coun- 
tenances of  the  by-standers,  was  depicted  one  general  and  sym- 
pathizing expression  of  eager,  envious,  wistful  anxiety,  which 
predominated  so  far  over  the  various  characters  of  each,  as  to 
communicate  something  of  a  likeness  to  all.     It  was  an  impress 


172  PELHAM;  OR, 

of  such  a  seal  as  you  might  imagine,  not  the  arch-fiend,  but  one 
of  his  subordinate  shepherds,  would  have  set  upon  each  of  his 
flock. 

Amid  this  crowd,  I  recognized  more  than  one  face  which  I 
had  often  seen  in  my  equestrian  lounges  through  town,  peering 
from  the  shoulders  of  some  obtrusive,  ragamuffin,  wages-less 
lackey,  and  squalling  out  of  its  wretched,  unpampered  mouth, 
the  everlasting  query  of  "  Want  your  oss  held,  SirV  The  rest 
were  made  up  of  unfortunate  women  of  the  vilest  and  most  rag- 
ged description,  aged  itinerants,  with  features  seared  with  fam- 
ine, bleared  eyes,  dropping  jaws,  shivering  limbs,  and  all  mortal 
sighs  of  hopeless  and  aidless,  and,  worst  of  all,  breadless  in- 
firmity. Here  and  there  an  Irish  accent  broke  out  in  the  oaths 
of  national  impatience,  and  was  answered  by  the  shrill,  broken 
voice  of  some  decrepit  but  indefatigable  votaries  of  pleasure — 
{pleasure  !)  but  the  chief  character  of  the  meeting  was  silence; 
— silence,  eager,  heavy,  engrossing ;  and,  above  them  all,  shone 
out  the  quiet  moon,  so  calm,  so  holy,  so  breathing  of  still  happi- 
ness and  unpolluted  glory,  as  if  it  never  looked  upon  the  traces 
of  human  passion,  and  misery,  and  sin.  We  stood  for  some 
moments  contemplating  the  group  before  us,  and  then,  follow- 
ing the  steps  of  an  old,  withered  crone,  who,  with  a  cracked 
cup  in  her  hand,  was  pushing  her  way  through  the  throng,  we 
found  ourselves  in  that  dreary  pandaemonium,  at  once  the  origin 
and  refuge  of  humble  vices — a  Gin-shop. 

"Poor  devils,"  said  Dartmore,  to  two  or  three  of  the  nearest, 
and  eagerest  among  the  crowd,  "come  in,  and  I  will  treat  you." 

The  invitation  was  received  with  a  promptness  which  must  have 
been  the  most  gratifying  compliment  to  the  inviter ;  and  thus 
Want,  which  is  the  mother  of  Invention,  does  not  object,  now 
and  then,  to  a  bantling  by  Politeness. 

We  stood  by  the  counter  while  o\xr  protege's  were  served,  in  si- 
lent observation.  In  low  vice,  too  me,  there  is  always  something 
too  gloomy,  almost  too  fearful  for  light  mirth  ;  the  contortions  of 
the  madman  are  stronger  than  those  of  the  fool,  but  one  does 
not  laugh  at  them  ;  the  sympathy  is  for  the  cause — not  the  effect. 

Leaning  against  the  counter  at  one  corner,  and  fixing  his  eyes 
deliberately  and  unmovingly  upon  us,  was  a  man  about  the  age 
of  fifty,  dressed  in  a  costume  of  singular  fashion,  apparently  pre- 
tending to  an  antiquity  of  taste,  correspondent  with  that  of  the 
material.  This  person  wore  a  large  cocked-hat,  set  rather  jaun- 
tily on  one  side,  and  a  black  coat,  which  seemed  an  omnium 
gatherum  of  all  abominations  that  had  come  in  its  way  for  the 
last  ten  years  and  which  appeared  to  advance  equal  claims  (from 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  173 

the  manner  it  was  made  and  worn),  to  the  several  dignities  of 
the  art  military  and  civil,  the  arama  and  the  toga  : — from  the 
neck  of  the  wearer  hung  a  blue  ribbon  of  amazing  breadth,  and 
of  a  very  surprising  assumption  of  newness  and  splendor,  by  no 
means  in  harmony  with  the  other  parts  of  the  tout  ensemble ;  this 
was  the  guardian  of  an  eye-glass  of  block  tin,  and  of  dimensions 
correspondent  with  the  size  of  the  ribbon.  Stuck  under  the 
right  arm,  and  shaped  fearfully  like  a  sword,  peeped  out  the  hilt 
of  a  ver}"^  large  and  sturdy-looking  stick,  "  in  war  a  weapon,  in 
peace  a  support." 

The  features  of  the  man  were  in  keeping  with  his  garb ;  they 
betokened  an  equal  mixture  of  the  traces  of  poverty,  and  the 
assumption  of  the  dignities  reminiscent  of  a  better  day.  Two 
small  light-blue  eyes  were  shaded  by  bushy  and  rather  imperi- 
ous brows,  which  lowered  from  under  the  hat,  like  Cerberus  out 
of  his  den.  These,  at  present,  wore  the  dull,  fixed  stare  of  habit- 
ual intoxication,  though  we  were  not  long  in  discovering  that 
they  had  not  yet  forgotten  to  sparkle  with  all  the  quickness,  and 
more  than  the  roguery  of  youth.  His  nose  was  large,  promi- 
nent, and  aristocratic  ;  nor  would  it  have  been  ifl-fornied,  had 
not  some  unknown  cause  pushed  it  a  little  nearer  towards  the 
left  ear,  than  would  have  been  thought,  by  an  equitable  judge  of 
beauty,  fair  to  the  pretensions  of  the  right.  The  lines  in  the 
countenance  were  marked  as  if  in  iron,  and  had  the  face  been 
perfectly  composed,  must  have  given  to  it  a  remarkably  stern 
and  sinister  appearance  ;  but  at  that  moment  there  was  an  arch 
leer  about  the  mouth,  which  softened,  or  at  least  altered  the  ex- 
pression the  features  habitually  wore, 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  (after  a  few  minutes  of  silence,)  "  Sir,"  said 
he,  approaching  me,  "  will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  take  a  pinch 
of  snuff  ?  "  and  so  saying  he  tapped  a  curious  copper  box,  with 
a  picture  of  his  late  majesty  upon  it. 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  answered  I,  bowing  low,  "  since  the 
act  is  a  prelude  to  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance." 

My  gentleman  of  the  gi.n-shop  opened  his  box  with  an  air,  as 
he  replied — "  It  is  but  seldcjm  that  I  meet,  in  places  of  this 
description,  gentlemen  of  the  exterior  of  yourself  and  your 
friends.  I  am  not  a  person  \tx\  easily  deceived  by  the  outward 
man.  Horace,  sir,  could  not  have  included  vie.,  when  he  said. 
Specie  decipimiir.  I  perceive  that  you  are  surprised  at  hearing 
me  quote  Latin.  Alas  !  sir,  in  my  wandering  and  various  man- 
ner of  life  I  may  say,  with  Cicero  and  Pliny,  that  the  study  of 
letters  has  proved  my  greatest  consolation.  '  Gaiidium  wi/ii,' 
snys  the  latter  author,   ^  et  solatium  in  Uteris:    nihil  tam  hrt/an 


174  PELHAM  ;  OR, 

quod  his  non  Icetius,  nihil  tarn  triste  quod  non  per  has  sit  minus 
triste.'  G — d  d — n  ye,  you  scoundrel,  give  me  my  gin  !  ar'n't 
you  ashamed  of  keej^ing  a  gentleman  of  my  fashion  so  long 
waiting  ?  " 

This  was  said  to  the  sleepy  dispenser  of  the  spirituous  pota- 
tions, who  looked  up  for  a  moment  with  a  dull  stare,  and  then 
rejDlied,  "  Your  money  first,  Mr.  Gordon — you  owe  us  seven- 
pence  half-penny  already," 

"  Blood  and  confusion  !  speakest  thou  to  me  of  half-pence  1 
Know  that  thou  art  a  mercenary  varlet ;  yes,  knave,  mark  that, 
a  mercenary  varlet."  The  sleepy  Ganymede  replied  not,  and 
the  wrath  of  Mr.  Gordon  subsided  into  a  low,  interrupted,  in- 
ternal muttering  of  strange  oaths,  which  rolled  and  grumbled, 
and  rattled  in  his  throat,  like  distant  thunder. 

At  length  he  cheered  up  a  little — "  Sir,"  said  he,  addressing 
Dartmore,  "  it  is  a  sad  thing  to  be  dependent  on  these  low  per- 
sons ;  the  wise  among  the  ancients  were  never  so  wrong  as 
when  they  panegyrized  poverty  :  it  is  the  wicked  man's  tempter, 
the  good  man's  perdition,  the  proud  man's  curse,  the  melan- 
choly man's  halter." 

"  You  are  a  strange  old  cock,"  said  the  unsophisticated 
Dartmore,  eyeing  him  from  head  to  foot ;  "  there's  half  a 
sovereign  for  you." 

The  blunt  blue  eyes  of  Mr.  Gordon  sharpened  up  in  an 
instant ;  he  seized  the  treasure  with  an  avidity  of  which,  the 
minute  after,  he  seemed  somewhat  ashamed  ;  for  he  said,  play- 
ing with  the  coin  in  an  idle,  indifferent  manner — "  Sir,  you 
show  a  consideration,  and,  let  me  add,  sir,  a  delicacy  of  feeling, 
unusual  at  your  years.  Sir,  I  shall  repay  you  at  my  earliest 
leisure,  and  in  the  meanwhile  allow  me  to  say,  that  I  shall  be 
proud  of  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance," 

"Thank-ye,  old  boy,"  said  Dartmore,  putting  on  his  glove  be- 
fore he  accepted  the  offered  hand  of  his  new  friend,  which,  though 
it  was  tendered  with  great  grace  and  dignity,  was  of  a  marvel- 
lously dingy  and  soapless  aspect. 

"  Harkye,  you  d — d  son  of  a  gun  !  "  cried  Mr.  Gordon,  abruptly 
turning  from  Dartmore,  after  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  to  the 
man  at  the  counter — "  Harkye  !  give  me  change  for  this  half-sov- 
ereign, and  be  d — d  to  you — and  then  tip  us  a  double  gill  of  your 
best ;  you  whey-faced,  liver-drenched,  pence-griping,  belly-griping, 
pauper-cheating,  sleepy-souled  Arismanes  of  bad  spirits.  Come, 
gentlemen,  if  you  have  nothing  better  to  do,  I'll  take  you  to 
my  club  ;  we  are  a  rare  knot  of  us,  there — all  choice  spirits  ; 
some  of  them  are  a  little  uncouth,  it  is  true,  but  we  are  not  all 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  175 

born  Chesterfields.  Sir,  allow  me  to  ask  the  favour  of  your 
name  ? " 

"  Dartmore." 

"  Mr.  Dartmore,  you  are  a  gentleman.  Hollo  !  you  Liquor- 
pond-street  of  a  scoimdrel — having  nothing  of  liquor  but  the  name, 
you  narrow,  nasty,  pitiful  alley  of  a  fellow,  with  a  kennel  for  a 
body,  and  a  sink  for  a  soul ;  give  me  my  change  and  my  gin,  you 
scoundrel !  Humph,  is  that  all  right,  you  Procrustes  of  the 
counter,  chopping  our  lawful  appetites  down  to  your  rascally 
standard  of  seven-pence  halfpenny  ?  Why  don't  you  take  a 
motto,  you  Paynim  dog  ?  Here's  one  for  you — '  Measure  for 
measure,  and  the  devil  to  pay  ! '  Humph,  you  pitiful  toadstool 
of  a  trader,  you  have  no  more  spirit  than  an  empty  water-bottle  ; 
and  when  you  go  to  h — 11,  they'll  use  you  to  cool  the  bellows. 
I  say,  you  rascal,  why  are  you  worse  off  than  the  devil  in  a  hip- 
bath of  brimstone  t — because,  you  knave,  the  devil  then  would 
only  be  half  d — d,  and  you're  d — d  all  over  ! Come,  gentle- 
men, I  am  at  your  service." 


CHAPTER    L. 


The  history  of  a  philosophical  vagabond,  pursuing  novelty,  and  losing 
content. —  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

We  followed  our  strange  friend  through  the  crowd  at  the  door, 
which  he  elbowed  on  either  side  with  the  most  aristocratic  dis- 
dain, perfectly  regardless  of  their  jokes  at  his  dress  and  manner  ; 
he  no  sooner  got  through  the  throng,  than  he  stopped  short 
(though  in  the  midst  of  the  kennel)  and  offered  us  his  arm. 
This  was  an  honor  of  which  we  were  by  no  means  desirous  ;  for, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  shabbiness  of  Mr.  Gordon's  exterior,  there 
was  a  certain  odor  in  his  garments  which  was  possibly  less  dis- 
pleasing to  the  wearer  than  to  his  acquaintance.  Accordingly, 
we  pretended  not  to  notice  this  invitation,  and  merely  said,  we 
would  follow  his  guidance. 

He  turned  up  a  narrow  street,  and  after  passing  some  of  the 
most  ill-favored  alleys  I  ever  had  the  happiness  of  beholding, 
he  stopped  at  a  low  door ;  here  he  knocked  twice,  and  was  at 
last  admitted  by  a  slip-shod  yawning  wench,  with  red  arms  and 
a  profusion  of  sandy  hair.  This  Hebe,  Mr.  Gordon  greeted 
with  a  loving  kiss,  which  the  kissee  resented  in  a  very  unequiv- 
ocal strain  of  disgustful  reproach. 

"  Hush  !  my  Queen  of  Clubs  ;  my  Sultana  Sootina  !  "  said  Mr. 


176  PELhAM  ;  OK, 

Gordon;  "hush!  or  these  gentlemen  will  think  you  in  earnest 
I  have  brought  three  new  customers  to  the  club." 

This  speech  somewhat  softened  the  incensed  Houri  of  Mr. 
Gordon's  Paradise,  and  she  very  civilly  asked  us  to  enter. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Mr.  Gordon  with  an  air  of  importance,  "  I  must 
just  step  in  and  ask  the  gentlemen  to  admit  you  ; — merely  a  form 
— for  a  word  from  me  will  be  quite  sufficient."  And  so  sayings 
he  vanished  for  about  five  minutes. 

On  his  return,  he  said,  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  that  we 
were  free  of  the  house,  but  that  we  must  pay  a  shilling  each  as 
the  customary  fee.  This  sum  was  soon  collected,  and  quietly 
inserted  in  the  waistcoat-pocket  of  our  chaperon,  who  then  con- 
ducted us  up  the  passage  into  a  small,  back  room,  where  were 
sitting  about  seven  or  eight  men,  enveloped  in  smoke,  and  moist- 
ening the  fever  of  the  Virginian  plant  with  various  preparations 
of  malt.  On  entering,  I  observed  Mr.  Gordon  deposit,  at  a  sort 
of  bar,  the  sum  of  threepence,  by  which  I  shrewdly  surmised  he 
had  gained  the  sum  of  two  and  ninepence  by  our  admission. 
With  a  ver}'  arrogant  air,  he  proceeded  to  the  head  of  the  table, 
sat  himself  down  with  a  swagger  and  called  out,  like  a  lusty 
roisterer  of  the  true  kidney,  for  a  pint  of  purl  and  a  pipe.  Not 
to  be  out  of  fashion,  we  ordered  the  same  articles  of  luxury. 

After  we  had  all  commenced  a  couple  of  puiTs  at  our  pipes,  I 
looked  round  at  our  fellow-guests  ;  they  seemed  in  a  very  poor 
state  of  body,  as  might  naturally  be  supposed  ;  and,  in  order  to 
ascertain  how  far  the  condition  of  the  mind  was  suited  to  that 
of  the  frame,  I  turned  round  to  Mr.  Gordon,  and  asked  him  in 
a  whisper  to  give  us  a  few  hints  as  to  the  genus  and  character- 
istics of  the  individual  components  of  his  club.  Mr.  Gordon 
declared  himself  delighted  with  the  proposal,  and  we  all  ad- 
journed to  a  separate  table  at  the  corner  of  the  room,  where  Mr. 
Gordon,  after  a  deep  draught  at  the  purl,  thus  began  : — 

"  You  observe  yon  thin,  meagre,  cadaverous  animal,  with 
rather  an  intelligent  and  melancholy  expression  of  countenance 
— his  name  is  Chitterling  Crabtree  :  his  father  was  an  eminent 
coal-merchant,  and  left  him  10,000/.  Crabtree  turned  politician. 
When  fate  wishes  to  ruin  a  man  of  moderate  abilities  and  mod- 
erate fortune,  she  makes  him  an  orator.  Mr.  Chitterling  Crab- 
tree attended  all  the  meetings  at  the  Crown  and  Anchor — sub- 
scribed to  the  aid  of  the  suffering  friends  of  freedom — harangued, 
argued,  sweated,  wrote — was  fined  and  imprisoned — regained 
his  liberty,  and  married — his  wife  loved  a  community  of  goods 
no  less  than  her  spouse,  and  ran  off  with  one  citizen,  while  he 
was  running  on  to  the  others.     Chitterling  dried  his  tears  •  and 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  T77 

COTitented  himself  with  the  reflection  that  '  in  a  proper  state  of 
things  '  such  an  event  could  not  have  occurred. 
I  ''  Mr.  Crabtree's  money  and  life  were  now  half  gone.  One 
does  not  subscribe  to  the  friends  of  freedom  and  spout  at  their 
dinners  for  nothing.  But  the  worst  drop  was  yet  in  the  cup. 
An  undertaking  of  the  most  spirited  and  promising  nature,  was 
conceived  by  the  chief  of  the  friends^  and  the  dearest  familiar 
of  Mr.  Chitterling  Crabtree.  Our  worthy  embarked  his  fortune 
in  a  speculation  so  certain  of  success  ; — crash  went  the  specula- 
tion, and  off  went  the  friend — Mr.  Crabtree  was  ruined.  He 
was  not,  however,  a  man  to  despair  at  trifles.  What  were  bread, 
meat,  and  beer  to  the  champion  of  equality  !  He  went  to  the 
meeting  that  very  night  :  he  said  he  gloried  in  his  losses — they 
were  for  the  cause  :  the  whole  conclave  rang  with  shouts  of  ap- 
plause, and  Mr.  Chitterling  Crabtree  went  to  bed  happier  than 
ever.  I  need  not  pursue  his  history  farther  ;  you  see  him  here — • 
verbum  sap.  He  spouts  at  the  '  Ciceronian,' for  half  a  crown 
a-night,  and  to  this  day  subscribes  sixpence  a-week  to  the  cause 
of  '  liberty  and  enlightenment  all  over  the  world.'  " 

"  By  heaven  !  "  cried  Dartmore,  "  he  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  my 
father  shall  do  something  for  him." 

Gordon  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  continued, — "  Now,  for  the 
second  person,  gentlemen,  whom  I  am  about  to  describe  to  you. 
You  see  that  middle-sized,  stout  man,  with  a  slight  squint,  and  a 
restless,  lowering,  cunning  expression  ?  " 

"  What !  him  in  the  kerseymere  breeches  and  green  jacket  ?  " 
said  I. 

"  The  same,"  answered  Gordon.  "  His  real  name  when  he 
does  not  travel  with  an  alias,  is  Job  Jonson.  He  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  rogues  in  Christendom  ;  he  is  so  noted  a  cheat, 
that  there  is  not  a  pickpocket  in  England  who  would  keep  com- 
pany with  him  if  he  had  anything  to  lose.  He  was  the  favorite 
of  his  father,  who  intended  to  lea\c  hiin  all  his  fortune,  which 
was  tolerably  large.  He  robbed  him  one  day  on  the  high  road  ; 
his  father  discovered  it,  and  disinherited  him.  He  was  placed 
at  a  merchant's  office,  and  rose,  step  by  step,  to  be  head  clerk, 
and  intended  son-in-law.  Three  niglUs  before  his  marriage,  he 
broke  open  the  till,  and  was  turned  out  of  doors  the  next  morning. 
If  you  were  going  to  do  him  the  greatest  favor  in  ihe  world,  he 
could  not  keep  his  hands  out  of  your  pocket  till  you  had  done  it. 
In  short,  he  has  rogued  himself  cnit  of  a  dozen  fortunes,  and  a 
hundred  friends,  and  managed,  with  incredible  dexterity  and 
success,  to  cheat  himself  into  beggary  and  a  pot  of  beer." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  I,  "but  I   think  a  sketch  of  your 


178  PELIIAM;  OK, 

own  life  must  be  more  amusing  than  that  of  any  one  else  :  am 
I  impertinent  in  asking  for  it  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Gordon  ;  "you  shall  have  it  in  as 
few  words  as  possible. 

*'  I  was  born  a  gentleman,  and  educated  with  some  pains  : 
they  told  me  I  was  a  genius,  and  it  was  not  very  hard  to  per- 
suade me  of  the  truth  of  the  assertion.  I  wrote  verses  to  a  won- 
der— robbed  orchards  according  to  military  tactics — never  played 
at  marbles  without  explaining  to  my  competitors  the  theory  of 
attraction — and  was  the  best-informed,  most  mischievous,  little 
rascal  in  the  whole  school.  My  family  were  in  great  doubt  what 
to  do  with  so  prodigious  a  wonder  ;  one  said  the  law,  another 
the  church,  a  third  talked  of  diplomacy,  and  a  fourth  assured  my 
mother,  that  if  I  could  but  be  introduced  at  court,  I  should  be  lord 
chamberlain  in  a  twelvemonth.  While  my  friends  were  deliberat- 
ing, I  took  the  liberty  of  deciding  :  I  enlisted,  in  a  fit  of  loyal 
valor,  in  a  marching  regiment ;  my  friends  made  the  best  of  a  bad 
job,  and  bought  me  an  ensigncy. 

"  I  recollect  I  read  Plato  the  night  before  I  went  to  battle  ; 
the  next  morning  they  told  me  I  ran  away.  I  am  sure  it  was  a 
malicious  invention,  for  if  I  had,  I  should  have  recollected  it ; 
whereas,  I  was  in  such  a  confusion  that  I  cannot  remember  a  sin- 
gle thing  that  happened  in  the  whole  course  of  that  day.  About 
six  months  afterwards,  I  found  myself  out  of  the  army,  and  in 
gaol ;  and  no  sooner  had  my  relations  released  me  from  the  lat- 
ter predicament,  than  I  set  off  on  my  travels.  At  Dublin,  I  lost 
my  heart  to  a  rich  widow  (as  I  thought)  ;  I  married  her,  and 
found  her  as  poor  as  myself.  Heavens  knows  what  would  have 
become  of  me,  if  I  had  not  taken  to  drinking  ;  my  wife  scorned 
to  be  outdone  by  me  in  anything  ;  she  followed  my  example,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  year  I  followed  her  to  the  grave.  Since  then 
I  have  taken  warning,  and  been  scrupulously  sober — Betty,  my 
love,  another  pint  of  ])url. 

"I  was  now  once  more  a  freeman  in  the  prime  of  my  life  ; 
handsome,  as  you  see,  gentlemen,  and  with  the  strength  and 
spirit  of  a  young  Hercules.  Accordingly  I  dried  my  tears, 
turned  marker  by  night  at  a  gambling  house,  and  buck  by  day, 
in  Bond-street  (for  1  had  returned  to  London).  I  remember 
well  one  morning,  that  his  present  Majesty  was  pleased,  en  pas- 
sant^ to  admire  my  buckskins — tempora  miitaniur.  Well,  gentle- 
men, one  night  at  a  brawl  in  our  salon^  my  nose  met  with  a  rude 
hint  to  move  to  the  right.  I  went,  in  a  great  panic,  to  the  sur- 
geon, who  mended  the  matter  by  moving  it  to  the  left.  There, 
thank  God  !   it  has  rested  in  quiet  ever  since.     It  is  needless  to 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  179 

tell  you  the  nature  of  the  quarrel  in  which  this  accident  occur- 
red ;  however,  my  friends  thought  it  necessary  to  remove  me 
from  the  situation  I  then  held.  I  went  once  more  to  Ireland, 
and  was  introduced  to  '  a  friend  of  freedom.'  I  was  poor  ;  that 
circumstance  is  quite  enough  to  make  a  patriot.  They  sent  me  . 
to  Paris  on  a  secret  mission,  and  when  I  returned,  my  friends 
were  in  prison.  Being  always  of  a  free  disposition,  I  did  not 
envy  them  their  situation  :  accordingly  I  returned  to  England. . 
Hal'/.ng  at  Liverpool,  with  a  most  debilitated  purse,  I  went  into 
a  silversmith's  shop  to  brace  it,  and  about  six  months  afterwards, 
I  found  myself  on  a  marine  excursion  to  Botany  Bay.  On  my 
return  from  that  country,  I  resolved  to  turn  my  literary  talents 
to  account.  I  went  to  Cambridge,  wrote  declamations,  and 
translated  Virgil  at  so  much  a  sheet.  My  relations  (thanks  to 
my  letters,  neither  few  nor  far  between)  soon  found  me  out ;  they 
allowed  me  (they  do  so  still)  half  a  guinea  a  week ;  and  upon 
this  and  my  declamations  1  manage  to  exist.  Ever  since,  my 
chief  residence  has  been  at  Cambridge.  I  am  an  universal  fa- 
vorite with  both  graduates  and  undergraduates  I  have  reformed 
my  life  and  my  manners,  and  have  become  the  quiet,  orderly 
person  you  behold  me.     Age  tames  the  fiercest  of  us — 

"  '  Non  sum  qualis  eiam,' 

"  Betty,  bring  me  my  purl,  and  be  d — d  to  you. 

"  It  is  now  vacation  time,  and  I  have  come  to  town  with  the 
idea  of  holding  lectures  on  the  state  of  education.  Mr.  Dart- 
more,  your  health.  Gentlemen,  yours.  My  story  is  done, — and 
I  hope  you  will  pay  for  the  purl."  * 


CHAPTER    LI. 

I  hate  a  drunken  rogue. —  Twelfth  Night. 

We  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  Mr.  Gordon,  and  found  our- 
selves once  more  in  the  open   air ;  the  smoke  and  the  purl  had 

Poor  Jemmy  Gordon— thou  art  no  more  !  The  stones  of  Cambridpc  no  lontjer  prate 
of  thy  whereabout  !— Death  hath  removed  thee; — may  it  wf/ be  to  that  bourne  where 
alone  thy  oaths  can  lie  outdone  !  He  was  indeed  a  sinj^ular  character,  that  Jemmy 
Gordon,  as  many  a  generation  of  Cantabs  can  attest! — His  lonj;  stick  and  his  cocked 
hat— and  his  tattered  Lucretius,  and  his  mijjhty  eyc-f,'lass,  how  famiharly  do  they 
intcrminfi^le  with  our  recollections  of  Trinity  and  of  Trumpin^rton  Streets  !  If  I  have 
riL'htly  heard,  his  death  was  the  consequence  of  a  fractured  limb.  Laid  by  the  le),'  in 
a  lofty  attic,  his  spirit  was  not  tamed  :— the  noises  lie  made  were  astoundinjj  to  the 
last. — Tlie  jfrim  foe  carried  him  off  in  a  whirlwind  of  slanff  I  I  do  not  say '/'<■(«<<•  to 
his  manes,'  for  quiet  would  be  the  worst  hell  that  could  await  him  : — and  heaven  itself 
would  be  torture  to  Jemmy  (iordon,  if  he  were  not  allowed  to  swear  in  it '  —Noisiest 
of  reprobates,  fare  thee  well ! — H.  P. 


iSo  PELHAM ;  OR, 

contributed  greatly  to  the  continuance  of  our  inebriety,  and  we 
were  as  much  averse  to  bed  as  ever.  We  conveyed  ourselves, 
laughing  and  rioting  all  the  way,  to  a  stand  of  hackney-coaches. 
We  entered  the  head  of  the  flock,  and  drove  to  Piccadilly.  It 
set  us  down  at  the  corner  of  the  Haymarket. 

"  Past  two  !  "  cried  the  watchman,  as  we  sauntered  by  him. 

"  You  lie,  you  rascal,"  said  I,   "  you  have  passed  three  now." 

We  were  all  merry  enough  to  laugh  at  this  sally ;  and  seeing 
a  light  gleam  from  the  entrance  of  the  Royal  Saloon,  we 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  it  was  opened  unto  us.  We  sat  down 
at  the  only  spare  table  in  the  place,  and  looked  round  at  the 
smug  and  71  arm int  c\i\ztr\s  with  whom  the  room  was  filled. 

"  Hollo,  waiter  !  "  cried  Tringle,  "  some  red  wine  negus — I 
know  not  why  it  is,  but  the  devil  himself  could  never  cure  me 
of  thirst.  Wine  and  I  have  a  most  chemical  attraction  for  each 
other.  Yow  know  that  we  always  estimate  the  force  of  attrac- 
tion between  bodies  by  the  force  required  to  sepc^rate  them  !  " 

While  we  were  all  three  as  noisy  and  nonsensical  as  our  best 
friends  could  have  wished  us,  a  new  stranger  entered,  approached, 
looked  round  the  room  for  a  seat  and  seeing  none,  walked 
leisurely  up  to  our  table,  and  accosted  me  with  a — "  Ha  !  Mr. 
Pelham,  how  d'ye  do  ?  Well  met ;  by  your  leave  I  will  sip  my 
grog  at  your  table.  No  offence  I  hope — more  the  merrier,  eh  ? 
— Waiter,  aglass  of  hot  brandy  and  water — not  too  weak.  D'ye 
hear?" 

Need  I  say  that  this  pithy  and  pretty  address  proceeded  from 
the  mouth  of  Mr.  Tom  Thornton  .-'  He  was  somewhat  more 
than  half  drunk,  and  his  light,  prying  eyes  twinkled  dizzily  in 
his  head.  Dartmore,  who  was,  and  is,  the  best-natured  fellow 
alive,  hailed  the  signs  of  his  intoxication  as  a  sort  of  free- 
masonr}-,  and  made  way  for  him  beside  himself.  I  could  not 
help  remarking,  that  Thornton  seemed  singularly  less  sleek  than 
heretofore  :  his  coat  was  out  at  the  elbows,  his  linen  was  torn 
and  soiled  ;  there  was  not  a  vestige  of  the  vulgar  spruceness 
about  him  which  was  formerly  one  of  his  most  prominent  char- 
acteristics. He  had  also  lost  a  great  deal  of  the  florid  health 
formerly  visible  in  his  face  ;  his  cheeks  seemed  sunk  and  hag- 
gard, his  eyes  hollow,  and  his  complexion  sallow  and  squalid,  in 
in  spite  of  the  flush  which  intemperance  spread  over  it  at  the 
moment.  However,  he  was  in  high  spirits,  and  soon  made 
himself  so  entertaining  that  Dartmore  and  Tringle  grew  charmed 
Avith  him. 

As  for  me,  the  antipathy  I  had  to  the  man  sobered  and  si- 
lenced me  for  the  rest  of  the  night ;  and  finding  that  Dartmore 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  iSi 

and  his  friend  were  eager  for  an  introduction  to  some  female 
friends  of  Thornton's,  whom  he  mentioned  in  terms  of  high 
praise,  I  tore  myself  from  them,  and  made  the  best  of  my  way 
home. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

Illi  mors  gravis  incubat 
Qui,  notus  nimis  omnibus, 
Ignotus  moritursibi. — Seneca. 

Nous  serons  par  nos  lois  les  juges  des  ouvrages. 

Les  Fejjimes  Savants. 

Whilst  we  do  speak,  our  fire 
Doth  into  ice  expire  ; 
Flames  turn  to  frost, 

And,  ere  we  can 

Know  how  our  crow  turns  swan, 

Or  how  a  silver  snow 
Springs  there,  where  jet  did  grow. 
Our  fading  spring  is  in  dull  winter  lost. 

Jaspar  Mayne. 

Vincent  called  on  me  the  next  day.  "  I  have  news  for  you," 
said  he,  "though  somewhat  of  a  lugubrious  nature.  Liigcte  Ven- 
eres Cupidinesque !  You  remember  the  Duchesse  de  Perpig- 
nan  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so,"  was  my  answer. 

"Well,  then,"  pursued  Vincent,  "she  is  no  mores  Her  death 
was  worthy  of  her  life.  She  was  to  give  a  brilliant  entertainment 
to  all  the  foreigners  at  Paris :  the  day  before  it  took  place,  a 
dreadful  eruption  broke  out  on  her  complexion.  She  sent  for 
the  doctors  in  despair.  '  Cure  me  against  to-morrow,'  she  said, 
'  and  name  your  own  reward.'  '  Madame,  it  is  impossible  to  do 
so  with  safety  to  your  heaUh.'  '■An  diable  with  your  health!' 
said  the  Duchesse  ;  '  what  is  health  to  an  eruption  ? '  The  doc- 
tors took  the  hint ;  an  external  apjolication  was  used — the  Duch- 
esse woke  in  the  morning  as  beautiful  as  ever — the  entertainment 
took  place — she  was  the  Armida  of  the  scene.  Supper  was  an- 
nounced.    She  took  the  arm  of  the ambassador,  and  moved 

through  the  crowd  amidst  the  audible  admiration  of  all.  She 
stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  door;  all  eyes  were  upon  her.  A 
fearful  and  ghastly  convulsion  passed  over  her  countenance,  her 
lips  trembled,  she  fell  on  the  floor  with  the  most  terrible  con- 
tortions of  face  and  frame.  They  carried  her  to  bed.  She  re- 
mained  for   some    days   insensible ;  when  she  recovered,    she 


I82  PELHAM ;  OR, 

asked  for  a  looking-glass.  Her  whole  face  was  drawn  on  one 
side  ;  not  a  wreck  of  beauty  was  left ; — that  night  she  poisoned 
herself !  " 

I  cannot  express  how  shocked  I  was  at  this  information. 
Much  as  I  had  cause  to  be  disgusted  with  the  conduct  of  that 
unhappy  woman,  I  could  find  in  my  mind  no  feeling  but  com- 
miseration and  horror  at  her  death  ;  and  it  was  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  Vincent  persuaded  me  to  accept  an  invitation  to  Lady 
Roseville's  for  the  evening,  to  meet  Glanville  and  himself. 

However,  I  cheered  up  as  the  night  came  on  ;  and  though 
my  mind  was  still  haunted  with  the  tale  of  the  morning,  it 
was  neither  in  a  musing  nor  a  melancholy  mood  that  I  entered 
the  drawing-room  at  Lady  Roseville's — "  So  runs  the  world 
away  !  " 

Glanville  was  there  in  his  customary  mourning. 

"  Pelham,"  he  said,  when  he  joined  me,  "  do  you  remember  at 

Lady 's  one  night,  I  said    I   would   introduce   you   to  my 

sister  ?  I  had  no  opportunity  then,  for  we  left  the  house  be- 
fore she  returned  from  the  refreshment-room.  May  I  do  so 
now  ?  " 

I  need  not  say  what  was  my  answer.  I  followed  Glanville 
into  the  next  room  ;  and,  to  my  inexpressible  astonishment  and 
delight,  discovered  in  his  sister  the  beautiful,  the  never  forgot- 
ten stranger  I  had  seen  at  Cheltenham. 

For  once  in  my  life  I  was  embarrassed — my  bow  would  have 
shamed  a  major  in  the  line,  and  my  stuttered  and  irrelevant 
address,  and  alderman  in  the  presence  of  His  Majesty.  How- 
ever, a  few  moments  sufficed  to"  recover  me,  and  I  strained  every 
nerve  to  be  as  agreeable  as  possible. 

After  I  had  conversed  with  Miss  Granville  for  some  time. 
Lady  Roseville  joined  us.  Stately  and  Juno-like,  as  was  that 
charming  personage  in  general,  she  relaxed  into  a  softness  of 
manner  to  Miss  Granville,  that  quite  won  my  heart.  She  drew 
her  to  a  part  of  the  room,  where  a  very  animated  and  chiefly 
literary  conversation  was  going  on — and  I,  resolving  to  make 
the  best  of  my  time,  followed  them,  and  once  more  found  my- 
self seated  beside  Miss  Glanville.  Lady  Roseville  was  on  the 
other  side  of  my  beautiful  companion  ;  and  I  observed  that, 
whenever  she  took  her  eyes  from  Miss  Glanville,  they  always 
rested  upon  her  brother,  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  disputation 
and  the  disputants,  sat  silent,  gloomy,  and  absorbed. 

The  conversation  turned  upon  Scott's  novels  ;  thence  on  noV' 
els  in  general  ;  and  finally  on  the  particular  one  of  Anastasius. 

"  It  is  a  thousand  pities,"    said  Vincent,  "  that  the  scene  of 


ADVENTURES  01'  A  GENTLEMAN.  183 

that  novel  is  so  far  removed  from  us.  But  it  is  a  great  misfor- 
tune for  Hope  that — 

'  To  learning  he  narrowed  his  mind, 
And  gave  up  to  the  East  what  was  meant  for  mankind.' 

One  often  loses,  in  admiration  at  the  knowledge  of  peculiar 
custom,  the  deference  one  would  have  paid  to  the  masterly  grasp 
of  universal  character." 

"It  must  require,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  "an  extraordinary 
combination  of  mental  powers  to  produce  a  perfect  novel." 

"  One  so  extraordinar}^,"  answered  Vincent,  "  that,  though  we 
have  one  perfect  epic  poem,  and  several  which  pretend  to  perfec- 
tion, we  have  not  one  perfect  novel  in  the  w'orld.*  Gil  Bias  ap- 
proaches more  to  perfection  than  any  other  ;  but  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  there  is  a  want  of  dignity,  of  moral  rectitude,  and  of 
what  I  may  term  moral  beauty,  throughout  the  whole  book.  If 
an  author  could  combine  the  various  excellences  of  Scott  and  Le 
Sage,  with  a  greater  and  more  metaphysical  knowledge  of 
morals  than  either,  we  might  expect  from  him  the  perfection  we 
have  not  yet  discovered  since  the  days  of  Apuleius." 

''  Speaking  of  morals,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  "  do  you  not 
think  every  novel  should  have  its  distinct  object,  and  inculcate, 
throughout,  some  one  peculiar  moral,  such  as  many  of  Mar- 
montel's  and  Miss  Edgeworth's  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  answered  Vincent;  "every  good  novel  has  one  great 
end — the  same  in  all — viz.  the  increasing  our  knowledge  of  the 
heart.  It  is  thus  that  a  novel-writer  must  be  a  philosopher. 
Whoever  succeeds  in  showing  us  more  accurately  the  nature  of 
ourselves  and  species,  has  done  science,  and,  consequently, 
virtue,  the  most  important  benefit ;  for  every  truth  is  a  moral. 
27us  great  and  universal  end,  I  am  led  to  imagine,  is  rather 
crippled  than  extended  by  the  rigorous  attention  to  the  one  iso- 
lated moral  you  mention. 

"  Thus  Dryden,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Progress  of  Satire,  very 
rightly  prefers  Horace  to  Juvenal,  so  far  as  instrudioti  is  con- 
cerned ;  because  the  miscellaneous  satires  of  the  former  are 
directed  against  every  vice — the  more  confined  ones  of  the 
latter  (for  the  most  part)  only  against  one.  All  mankind  is  the 
field  the  novelist  should  cultivate — all  truth,  the  moral  he  should 
strive  to  bring  home.  It  is  in  occasional  dialogue,  in  desultory 
maxims,  in  deductions  from  events,   in    analysis  of   character, 

*  For  Don  <^)uixotc  is  not  what  Lord  Vincent  terms  a  w^rv/,  viz.,  the  actual  reprc« 
scntation  of  real  life. 


1 84  PELHAM;  OR, 

that  he  should  benefit  and  instruct.  It  is  not  enough — and  T 
wish  a  certain  novelist  who  has  lately  arisen  would  remember 
this — it  is  not  enough  for  a  writer  to  have  a  good  heart,  amiable 
sympathies,  and  what  are  termed  high  feelings,  in  order  to 
shape  out  a  moral,  either  true  in  itself,  or  beneficial  in  its  incul- 
cation. Before  he  touches  his  tale,  he  should  be  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  intricate  science  of  morals,  and  the  meta- 
physical, as  well  as  the  more  open,  operations  of  the  mind.  If 
his  knowledge  is  not  deep  and  clear,  his  love  of  the  good  may 
only  lead  him  into  error  ;  and  he  may  pass  off  the  prejudices  of 
a  susceptible  heart  for  the  precepts  of  virtue.  Would  to  Heaven 
that  people  would  think  it  necessary  to  be  instructed  before 
they  attempt  to  instruct !  '  Dire  simplement  que  la  vcrtii  est 
vertu  parce  qu^elle  est  bonne  en  sojtfonds,  et  le  vice  tout  au  cojitraire, 
ce  Ji'est pas  les  faire  connoUre^  For  me,  if  I  were  to  write  a 
novel,  I  would  first  make  myself  an  acute,  active,  and  vigilant 
observer  of  men  and  manners.  Secondly,  I  would,  after  having 
thus  noted  effects  by  action  in  the  world,  trace  the  causes  by 
books,  and  meditation  in  my  closet.  It  is  then,  and  not  till 
then,  that  I  would  study  the  lighter  graces  of  style  and  decora- 
tion ;  nor  would  I  give  the  rein  to  invention,  till  I  was  convinced 
that  it  would  create  neither  monsters  of  men,  nor  falsities  of 
truth.  For  my  vehicles  of  instruction  or  amusement,  I  would 
have  people  as  they  are — neither  worse  nor  better — and  the 
moral  they  should  convey,  should  be  rather  through  jest  or 
irony,  than  gravity  and  seriousness.  There  never  was  an  im- 
perfection corrected  by  portraying  perfection  ;  and  if  levity  and 
ridicule  be  said  so  easily  to  allure  sin,  I  do  not  see  why  they  should 
not  be  used  in  defence  of  virtue.  Of  this  we  may  be  sure,  that  as 
laughter  is  a  distinct  indication  of  the  human  race,  so  there  never 
was  a  brute  mind  or  a  savage  heart  that  loved  to  indulge  in 
it."  * 

Vincent  ceased. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  as  she  took 
Miss  Granville's  arm  and  moved  from  the  table.  "  For  once 
you  have  condescended  to  give  us  your  own  sense,  and  not 
other  people's  ;  you  have  scarce  made  a  single  quotation," 

"  AccejDt,"  answered  Vincent  rising, 

"  '  Accept  a  miracle  instead  of  wit.'  " 

*  The  Sage  of  Malmesbury  expresses  a  very  different  opinion  of  the  philosophy  of 
laughter,  and,  for  my  part,  I  think  his  doctrine,  in  great  measure,  though  not  alto- 
gether, true.  See  Hobbes  on  Human  Nature,  and  the  answer  to  him  in  Campbell's 
Rhetoric. — Author. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  185 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


Oh !  I  love  !— Methinks 
This  word  of  love  is  fit  for  all  the  world, 
And  that,  for  gentle  hearts,  another  name 
Should  speak  of  gentler  thoughts  than  the  world  owns. 

B.  Shelley. 

-For  me,  I  ask  no  more  than  honor  gives 


To  think  me  yours,  and  rank  me  with  your  friends. 

Shakespeare. 

Callous  and  worldly  as  I  may  seem,  from  the  tone  of  these 
memoirs,  I  can  say,  safely,  that  one  of  the  most  delicious  even- 
ings I  ever  spent,-  was  the  first  of  my  introduction  to  Miss  Glan- 
ville.  I  went  home  intoxicated  with  a  subtle  spirit  of  enjoy- 
ment that  gave  a  new  zest  and  freshness  to  life.  Two  little 
hours  seemed  to  have  changed  the  whole  course  of  my  thoughts 
and  feelings. 

There  was  nothing  about  Miss  Glanville  like  a  heroine — I 
hate  your  heroines.  She  had  none  of  that  "  modest  ease,"  and 
"  quiet  dignity,"  of  which  certain  writers  speak  with  such  ap- 
plause. Thank  Heaven,  she  was  alive  !  She  had  great  sense, 
but  the  playfulness  of  a  child  ;  extreme  rectitude  of  mind,  but 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  gazelle  :  if  she  laughed,  all  her  counte- 
nance, lips,  eyes,  forehead,  cheeks,  laughed  too :  "  Paradise 
seemed  opened  in  her  face  : "  if  she  looked  grave,  it  was  such  a 
lofty  and  upward,  yet  sweet  and  gentle  gravity,  that  you  might 
(had  you  been  gifted  with  the  least  imagination)  have  supposed, 
from  the  model  of  her  countenance,  a  new  order  of  angels 
between  the  cherubim  and  the  seraphim,  the  angels  of  Love 
and  Wisdom.  She  was  not,  perhaps,  quite  so  silent  in  society 
as  my  individual  taste  would  desire  ;  but  when  she  spoke,  it 
was  with  a  propriety  of  thought  and  diction  which  made  me 
lament  when  her  voice  had  ceased.  It  was  as  if  something 
beautiful  in  creation  had  stopped  suddenly. 

Enough  of  this  now.  I  was  lazily  turning  (the  morning  after 
Lady  Roseville's)  over  some  old  books,  when  Vincent  entered. 
I  observed  that  his  face  was  flushed,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with 
more  than  their  usual  brilliancy.  He  looked  carefully  round 
the  room,  and  then,  approaching  his  chair  towards  mine,  said, 
in  a  low  tone — 

"  Pelham,  I  have  something  of  importance  on  my  mind  which 
I  wish  to  discuss  with  you  ;  but  let  me  entreat  you  to  lay  aside 
your  usual  levity,  and  pardon  me  if  I  say  affectation  ;  meet  me 


l86  PELHAM ;  OR, 

with  the  candor  and  plainness  which  are  the  real  distinctions  of 
your  character." 

"  My  Lord  Vincent,"  I  replied  ;  "  there  are,  in  your  words,  a 

depth  and  solemnity  which  pierce  me,  through  one  of  N 's 

best  stuffed  coats,  even  to  the  very  heart.  I  will  hear  you  as 
you  desire,  from  the  alpha  to  the  omega  of  your  discourse." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Vincent,  "  I  have  often  seen  that,  in 
spite  of  your  love  of  pleasure,  you  have  your  mind  continually 
turned  towards  highenand  graver  objects,  and  I  have  thought 
the  better  of  your  talents,  and  of  your  future  success,  for  the 
little  parade  you  make  of  the  one,  and  the  little  care  you  appear 
to  pay  to  the  other  :  for 

'  'tis  a  common  proof, 
That  lowliness  is  young  Ambition's  ladder.' 

I  have  also  observed  that  you  have,  of  late,  been  much  to  Lord 
Dawton's  ;  I  have  even  heard  that  you  have  been  twice  closeted 
with  him.  It  is  well  known  that  that  person  entertains  hopes 
of  leading  the  opposition  to  the  grata  arva  of  the  Treasury 
benches  ;  and  notwithstanding  the  years  in  which  the  Whigs 
have  been  out  of  office,  there  are  some  persons  who  pretend  to 
foresee  the  chance  of  a  coalition  between  them  and  Mr.  Gas' 
kell,  to  whose  principles  it  is  also  added  that  they  have  been 
gradually  assimilating." 

Here  Vincent  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  full  at  me.  I 
met  his  eye  with  a  glance  as  searching  as  his  own.  His  look 
changed,  and  he  continued. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,  Pelham  :  such  a  coalition  never  can  take 
place.  You  smile  :  I  repeat  it.  It  is  my  object  to  form  a  third 
party  ;  perhaps,  while  the  two  great  sects  '  anticipate  the  cab- 
inet designs  of  fate,'  there  may  suddenly  come  by  a  third,  '  to 
whom  the  whole  shall  be  referred.'  Say  that  you  think  it  not 
impossible  that  you  may  join  us,  and  I  will  tell  you  more." 

I  paused  for  three  minutes  before  I  answered  Vincent.  I 
then  said — "  I  thank  you  very  sincerely  for  your  proposal  :  tell 
me  the  names  of  two  of  your  designed  party,  and  I  will  answer 
you." 

"  Lord  Lincoln  and  Lord  Lesborough." 

"  What !  "  said  I — "  the  Whig,  who  says  in  the  Upper  House, 
that  whatever  may  be  the  distresses  of  the  people,  they  shall 
not  be  gratified  at  the  cost  of  one  of  the  despotic  privileges  of 
the  aristocracy.  Go  to  ! — I  will  have  none  of  him.  As  to  Les- 
borough, he  is  a  fool  and  a  boaster — who  is  always  puffing  his 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  187 

own  vanity  with  the  windiest  pair  of  oratorical  bellows  that  ever 
were  made  by  air  and  brass,  for  the  purpose  of  sound  and 
smoke,  '  signifying  nothing.'  Go  to  ! — I  will  have  none  of  him 
either." 

"  You  are  right  in  your  judgment  of  my  confreres,^''  answered 
Vincent ;  "  but  we  must  make  use  of  bad  tools  for  good  pur= 
poses." 

"  No — no  !  "  said  I  ;  "  the  commonest  carpenter  will  tell  you 
the  reverse." 

Vincent  eyed  me  suspiciously.  "  Look  you  !  "  said  he  :  "  I 
know  well  that  no  man  loves,  better  than  you,  place,  power, 
and  reputation.     Do  you  grant  this  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  was  my  reply. 

"  Join  with  us ;  I  will  place  j^ou  in  the  House  of  Commons 
immediately  :  if  we  succeed,  you  shall  have  the  first  and  the  best 
post  I  can  give  you.  Now — '  under  which  king,  Bezonian, 
speak  or  die  ! ' " 

"  I  answer  you  in  the  words  of  the  same  worthy  you  quote," 
said  I — "  '  A  foutra  for  thine  office.' — Do  you  know,  Vincent, 
that  I  have,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  such  a  thing  as  a 
conscience  ?  It  is  true  I  forget  it  now  and  then  ;  but  in  a  public 
capacity,  the  recollection  of  others  would  put  me  very  soon  \\\ 
mind  of  it.  I  know  your  party  well.  I  cannot  imagine — forgive 
me — one  more  injurious  to  the  country,  nor  one  more  revolting 
to  myself ;  and  I  do  positively  affirm,  that  I  would  sooner  feed 
my  poodle  on  paunch  and  liver,  instead  of  cream  and  fricassee, 
than  to  be  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  men  like  Lincoln  and 
Lesborough  ;  who  talk  much,  who  perform  nothing — who  join 
ignorance  of  every  principle  of  legislation  to  indifference  for 
every  benefit  to  the  people  : — who  are  full  of  '  wise  saws,'  but 
empty  of  '  modern  instances  ' — who  level  upwards,  and  trample 
downwards — and  would  only  value  the  ability  you  are  pleased  to 
impute  to  me,  in  the  exact  proportion  that  a  sportsman  values 
the  ferret,  that  burrows  for  his  pleasure,  and  destroys  for  his 
interest.     Nowx  party  can't  stand  !  " 

Vincent  turned  pale — "And  how  long,"  said  he,  have  you 
learnt  *  the  principles  of  legislation,'  and  this  mighty  affection 
for  the  '  benefit  of  the  people  ? '  " 

"  Ever  since,"  said  I,  coldly,  "  I  learnt  any  thing  !  The  first 
piece  of  real  knowledge  I  ever  gained  was,  that  my  interest  was 
incorporated  with  that  of  the  beings  with  whom  I  had  the 
chance  of  being  cast :  if  I  injure  them,  I  injure  myself  :  if  I  can 
do  them  any  good,  I  receive  the  benefit  in  common  with  the 
rest.     Now.  as  I  have  a  great  love  for  that  personage  who  has 


iSS  PELHAM ;  OR, 

now  the  honor  of  addressing  yon,  I  resolved  to  be  honest  for  his 
sake.  So  much  for  my  affection  for  the  benefit  of  the  people. 
As  to  the  Httle  l<:nowledge  of  the  principles  of  legislation,  on 
which  you  are  kind  enough  to  compliment  me,  look  over  the 
books  on  this  table,  or  the  writings  in  this  desk,  and  know,  that 
ever  since  I  had  the  misfortune  of  parting  from  you  at  Chelten- 
ham, there  has  not  been  a  day  in  which  I  have  spent  less  than 
six  hours  reading  and  writing  on  that  sole  subject.  But  enough 
of  this — will  you  ride  to-day  .-"  " 
Vincent  rose  slowly — 

"  '  Gli  arditi  (said  he)  tuoi  voti 
Gia  noti  mi  sono; 
Ma  invano  a  quel  trono, 
Tu  aspiri  con  me  : 
Trema  per  te  ! '  " 

" '  lo  trema '  (I  replied  out  of  the  same  opera) — '  lo  trema — 
dite!''' 

"  Well,"  answered  Vincent,  and  his  fine  high  nature  overcame 
his  momentary  resentment  and  chagrin  at  my  rejection  of  his 
offer — "  Well,  I  honor  you  for  your  sentiments,  though  they  are 
opposed  to  my  own.     I  may  depend  on  your  secrecy?  " 

"  You  may,"  said  I. 

"  I  forgive  you,  Pelham,"  rejoined  Vincent :  "  we  part  friends." 

"  Wait  one  moment,"  said  I,  "  and  pardon  me,  if  I  venture  to 
speak  in  the  language  of  caution  to  one  in  every  way  so  supe- 
rior to  myself.  No  one  (I  say  this  with  a  safe  conscience,  for  I 
never  flattered  my  friend  in  my  life,  though  I  have  often 
adulated  my  enemy) — no  one  has  a  greater  admiration  for  your 
talents  than  myself ;  I  desire  eagerly  to  see  you  in  the  station 
most  fit  for  their  display  :  pause  one  moment  before  you  link 
yourself,  not  only  to  a  party,  but  to  principles  that  cannot  stand. 
You  have  only  to  exert  yourself,  and  you  may  either  lead  the 
opposition,  or  be  among  the  foremost  in  the  administration. 
Take  something  certain,  rather  than  what  is  doubtful  ;  or  at 
least  stand  alone  : — such  is  my  belief  in  your  powers,  if  fairly 
tried,  that  if  you  were  not  united  to  those  men,  I  would  promise 
you  faithfully  to  stand  or  fall  by  you  alone,  even  if  we  had  not ' 
through  all  England  another  soldier  to  our  standard  ;  but " 

"  I  thank  you,  Pelham,"  said  Vincent,  interrupting  me  :  "  till 
we  meet  in  public  as  enemies,  we  are  friends  in  private — I  de- 
sire no  more.     Farewell." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  189 


CHAPTER  LIV, 

II  vaut  mieux  employer  notre  esprit  a  supporter  les  infortunes  qui  nous 
arrivent,  qu'a  prevoir  celles  qui  nous  peuvent  arriver. — Rochekoucault. 

No  sooner  had  Vincent  departed  than  I  buttoned  my  coat, 
and  sallied  out  through  a  cold  easterly  wind  to  Lord  Dawton's. 
It  was  truly  said  by  the  political  quoter,  that  I  had  been  often 
to  that  nobleman's,  although  I  have  not  thought  it  advisable  to 
speak  of  my  political  adventures  hitherto,  I  have  before  said 
that  I  was  ambitious ;  and  the  sagacious  have  probably  already 
discovered  that  I  was  somewhat  less  ignorant  than  it  was  my 
usual  pride  and  pleasure  to  appear.  I  had  established,  among 
my  uncle's  friends,  a  reputation  for  talent ;  and  no  sooner  had  I 
been  personally  introduced  to  Lord  Dawton,  than  I  found  my- 
self courted  by  that  personage  in  a  manner  equally  gratifying 
and  uncommon.  When  I  lost  my  seat  in  Parliament,  Dawton 
assured  me  that,  before  the  session  was  over,  I  should  be  re- 
turned for  one  of  his  boroughs  ;  and  though  my  mind  revolted 
at  the  idea  of  becoming  dependent  on  any  party,  I  made  little 
scruple  of  promising  eonditionally  to  ally  myself  to  his.  So  far 
had  affairs  gone,  when  I  was  honored  with  Vincent's  proposal. 
I  found  Lord  Dawton  in  his  library,  with  the  Marquis  of  Clan- 
donald  (Lord  Dartmore's  father,  and,  from  his  rank  and  property, 
classed  among  the  highest,  as,  from  his  vanity  and  restlessness,  he 
was  among  the  most  active,  members  of  the  opposition).  Clan- 
donald  left  the  room  when  I  entered.  Few  men  in  office  are 
wise  enough  to  trust  the  young  ;  as  if  the  greater  zeal  and  sin- 
cerity of  youth  did  not  more  than  compensate  for  its  appetite 
for  the  gay',  or  its  thoughtlessness  of  the  serious. 

When  we  were  alone,  Dawton   said  to  me,  "  We   are  in  great 

despair  at  the  motion  upon  the ,  to  be  made  in  the  Lower 

House.  We  have  not  a  single  person  whom  we  can  depend  upon, 
for  the  sweeping  and  convincing  answer  we  ought  to  make  ;  and 
through  we  should  least  muster  our  full  force  in  voting,  our  whip- 
per-in, poor ,  is  so  ill  that  I  fear  we  shall  make  but  a  very 

pitiful  figure." 

"  Give  me,"  said  I,  "  full  permission  to  go  forth  into  the  high- 
ways and  by-ways,  and  I  will  engage  to  bring  a  whole  legion  of 
dandies  to  the  House  door.  I  can  go  no  farther  ;  your  other 
agents  must  do  the  rest." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Lord  Dawton,  eagerly  ; 
"  thank  you  a  thousand  times :  we  must  really  get  you  in  the 


igo  PELHAM;  OR, 

House  as  soon  as  possible  ;  you  will  serve  us  more  than  I   can 
express." 

I  bowed,  with  a  sneer  I  could  not  repress.  Dawton  pretended 
not  to  observe  it.  "  Come,"  said  I,  "  my  lord,  we  have  no  time 
to  lose.  I  shall  meet  you,  perhaps,  at  Brookes's,  to-morrow 
evening,  and  report  to  you  respecting  my  success." 

Lord  Dawton  pressed  my  hand  warmly,  and  followed  me  to  the 
door. 

"  He  is  the  best  premier  we  could  have,"  thought  I ;  "  but  he 
deceives  himself,  if  he  thinks  Henry  Pelham  will  play  the  jackall 
to  his  lion.  He  will  soon  see  that  I  shall  keep  for  myself  what 
he  thinks  I  hunt  for  him."  I  passed  through  Pall  Mall,  and 
thought  of  Glanville.  I  knocked  at  his  door  :  he  was  at  home. 
I  found  him  leaning  his  cheek  upon  his  hand,  in  a  thoughtful 
position  ;  an  open  letter  was  before  him. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said,  pointing  to  it. 

I  did  so.     It  was  from  the  agent  to  the  Duke  of ,  and 

containing  his  nomination  to  an  opposition  borough. 

"  A  new  toy,  Pelham,"  said  he,  faintly  smiling  ;  "  but  a  little 
longer,  and  they  will  all  be  broken — the  rattle  will  be  the  last." 

"  My  dear,  dear  Glanville,"  said  I,  much  affected,  "do  not 
talk  thus ;  you  have  everything  before  you." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Glanville,  "you  are  right,  for  every  thing 
left  for  me  is  in  the  grave.  Do  you  imagine  that  I  can  taste 
one  of  the  possessions  which  fortune  has  heaped  upon  me  ;  that 
I  have  one  healthful  faculty,  one  sense  of  enjoyment,  among  the 
hundred  which  other  men  are  '  heirs  to  ? '  When  did  you  ever  see 
me  for  a  moment  happy  }  I  live,  as  it  were,  on  a  rock,  barren, 
and  herbless,  and  sapless,  and  cut  off  from  all  human  fellowship 
and  intercourse.  I  had  only  a  single  object  left  to  live  for,  when 
you  saw  me  at  Paris  ;  I  have  gratified  that,  and  the  end  and  pur 
pose  of  my  existence  is  fulfilled.  Heaven  is  merciful ;  but  a  lit' 
tie  while,  and  this  feverish  and  unquiet  spirit  shall  be  at  rest." 

I  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it. 

"  Feel,"  said  he,  "  this  dry,  burning  skin  ;  count  my  pulse 
through  the  variations  of  a  single  minute,  and  you  will  cease 
either  to  pity  me,  or  to  speak  to  me  of  life.  For  months  I  have 
had,  night  and  day,  a  wasting — wasting  fever,  of  brain  and  heart, 
and  frame  ;  the  fire  works  well,  and  the  fuel  is  nearly  consumed." 

He  paused,  and  we  were  both  silent.  In  fact,  I  was  shocked 
at  the  fever  of  his  pulse,  no  less  than  affected  at  the  despondency 
of  his  words.     At  last  I  spoke  to  him  of  medical  advice. 

"  '  Canst  thou,'  "  he  said,  with  a  deep  solemnity  of  voice  and 
manner,    " '  administer    to  a  mind   diseased — pluck  from   the 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  igr 

memory.'  *  *  *  *  Ah  !  away  with  the  quotation  and  the  re- 
flection." And  he  sprang  from  the  sofa,  and,  going  to  the  win- 
dow, opened  it  and  leaned  out  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 
When  he  turned  again  towards  me,  his  manner  had  regained  its 
usual  quiet.     He  spoke  about  the  important  motion  approaching 

on  the  ,  and   promised  to  attend  ;  and  then,  by  degrees,  I 

led  him  to  talk  of  his  sister. 

He  mentioned  her  with  enthusiasm.  "  Beautiful  as  Ellen  is," 
he  said,  "  her  face  is  the  very  faintest  reflection  of  her  mind. 
Her  habits  of  thought  are  so  pure,  that  every  impulse  is  a  virtue. 
Never  was  there  a  person  to  whom  goodness  was  so  easy. 
Vice  seems  something  so  opposite  to  her  nature,  that  I  cannot 
imagine  it  possible  for  her  to  sin." 

"  Will  you  not  call  with  me  at  your  mother's  ?  "  said  I.  "  I 
am  going  there  to-day." 

Glanville  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  we  went  at  once  to 
Lady  Glanville's  in  Berkeley-square.  We  were  admitted  into  his 
mother's  boudoir.  She  was  alone  with  Miss  Glanville.  Our 
conversation  soon  turned  from  commonplace  topics  to  those  of 
a  graver  nature ;  the  deep  melancholy  of  Glanville's  mind 
imbued  all  his  thoughts,  when  he  suffered  himself  to  express 
them. 

"  Why,"  said  Lady  Glanville,  who  seemed  painfully  fond  of 
her  son,  "  why  do  you  not  go  more  into  the  world  ?  You  suffer 
your  mind  to  prey  upon  itself,  till  it  destroys  you.  My  dear, 
dear  son,  how  very  ill  you  seem  !  " 

Ellen,  whose  eyes  swam  in  tears,  as  they  gazed  upon  her  bro- 
ther, laid  her  beautiful  hand  upon  his,  and  said,  "  For  my  mother's 
sake,  Reginald,  do  take  more  care  of  yourself  :  you  want  air, 
and  exercise,  and  amusement." 

"No,"  answered  Glanville,  "I  want  nothing  but  occupation  ; 

and,  thanks  to  the  Duke  of ,  1  have  now  got  it.     I  am  chosen 

member  for ." 

"I  am  too  happy,"  said  the  proud  mother;  "you  will  now  be 
all  I  have  ever  predicted  for  you ;  "  and,  in  her  joy  at  the  mo- 
ment, she  forgot  the  hectic  of  his  cheek,  and  the  hollowness  of 
his  eye. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  Reginald,  turning  to  his  sister, 
"those  beautiful  lines  in  my  favorite  Ford — 

'Glories 
Of  human  greatness  are  but  pleasing  dreams, 
And  shadows  soon  decaying.     On  the  stage 
Of  my  mortality,  my  youth  has  acted 
Some  scenes  of  vanity,  drawn  out  at  length 


192  PELHAM ;  OR, 

By  varied  pleasures — sweetened  in  the  mixture, 
But  tragical  in  issue.     Beauty,  pomp, 
With  every  sensuality  our  giddiness 
Doth  frame  an  idol — are  inconstant  friends 
When  any  troubled  passion  makes  us  halt 
On  the  unguarded  castle  of  the  mind.'  " 

"  Your  verses,"  said  I,  "  are  beautiful,  even  to  me,  who  have 
no  soul  for  poetry,  and  never  wrote  a  line  in  my  life.  But  I 
love  not  their  philosophy.  In  all  sentiments  that  are  impreg- 
nated with  melancholy,  and  instil  sadness  as  a  moral,  I  question 
the  wisdom,  and  dispute  the  truth.  There  is  no  situation  in  life 
which  we  cannot  sweeten,  or  embitter,  at  will.  If  the  past  is 
gloomy,  I  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  dwelling  upon  it.  If  the 
mind  can  make  one  vigorous  exertion,  it  can  another  :  the  same 
energy  you  put  forth  in  acquiring  knowledge,  would  also  enable 
you  to  baffle  misfortune.  Determine  not  to  think  upon  what  is 
painful ;  resolutely  turn  away  from  every  thing  that  recalls  it ; 
bend  all  your  attention  to  some  new  and  engrossing  object ;  do 
this,  and  you  defeat  the  past.  You  smile,  as  if  this  were  impos- 
sible ;  yet  it  is  not  an  iota  more  so,  than  to  tear  one's  self  from 
a  favorite  pursuit,  and  addict  one's  self  to  an  object  unwelcome 
to  one  at  first.  This  the  mind  does  continually  through  life  :  so 
can  it  also  do  the  other,  if  you  will  but  make  an  equal  exertion. 
Nor  does  it  seem  to  me  natural  to  the  human  heart  to  look  much 
to  the  past ;  all  its  plans,  its  projects,  its  aspirations,  are  for  the 
future  ;  it  \^for  the  future,  and  in  the  future,  that  we  live.  Our 
very  passions,  when  most  agitated,  are  most  anticipative.  Re- 
venge, avarice,  ambition,  love,  the  desire  of  good  and  evil,  are 
all  fixed  and  pointed  to  some  distant  goal ;  to  look  backwards, 
to  like  walking  backwards — against  our  proper  formation :  the 
mind  does  not  readily  adopt  the  habit,  and  when  once  adopted, 
it  will  readily  return  to  its  natural  bias.  Oblivion  is,  there- 
fore, a  more  easily  obtained  boon  than  we  imagine.  Forgetful- 
ness  of  the  past  is  purchased  by  increasing  our  anxiety  for 
the  future." 

I  paused  for  a  moment,  but  Glanville  did  not  answer  me  ;  and, 
encouraged  by  a  look  from  Ellen,  I  continued — "  You  remember 
that,  according  to  an  old  creed,  if  we  were  given  memory  as  a 
curse,  we  were  also  given  hope  as  a  blessing.  Counteract  the 
one  by  the  other.  In  my  own  life,  I  have  committed  many 
weak,  perhaps  many  wicked  actions ;  I  have  chased  away  their 
remembrance,  though  I  have  transplanted  their  warning  to  the 
future.  As  the  body  involuntarily  avoids  what  is  hurtful  to  it, 
without  tracing  the  association   to  its  first  experience,   so   the 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  193 

mind  insensibly  shuns  what  has  formerly  afflicted  it,  even  with- 
out palpably  recalling  the  remembrance  of  the  affliction. 

"  The  Roman  philosopher  placed  the  secret  of  human  happi- 
ness in  the  one  maxim — '  not  to  admire.'  I  never  could  exactly 
comprehend  the  sense  of  the  moral :  my  maxim  for  the  same  ob- 
ject would  be — 'never  to  regret.'  " 

"  Alas  !  my  dear  friend,"  said  Glanville — "  we  are  great  phi- 
losophers to  each  other,  but  not  to  ourselves ;  the  moment  we 
begin  io  feel  sorrow,  we  cease  to  reflect  on  its  wisdom.  Time 
is  the  only  comforter ;  your  maxims  are  very  true,  but  they  con- 
firm me  in  my  opinion — that  it  is  in  vain  for  us  to  lay  down  fixed 
precepts  for  the  regulation  of  the  mind  so  long  as  it  is  depend- 
ent upon  the  body.  Happiness  and  its  reverse  are  constitutional 
in  many  persons,  and  it  is  then  only  that  they  are  independent 
of  circumstances.  Make  the  health,  the  frames  of  all  men,  alike 
— make  their  nerves  of  the  same  susceptibility — their  memories 
of  the  same  bluntness,  or  acuteness — and  I  will  then  allow  that 
you  can  give  rules  adapted  to  all  men  ;  till  then,  your  maxim, 
'  never  to  regret,'  is  as  idle  as  Horace's  '  never  to  admire.'  It 
may  be  wise  to  you — it  is  impossible  to  me !  " 

With  these  last  words,  Glanville's  voice  faltered,  and  I  felt 
averse  to  push  the  argument  further.  Ellen's  eye  caught  mine, 
and  gave  me  a  look  so  kind,  and  almost  grateful,  that  I  forgot 
every  thing  else  in  the  world.  A  few  moments  afterwards  a 
friend  of  Lady  Glanville's  was  announced,  and  I  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

Intus,  ct  in  jecore  aep;ro, 

Nascuntur  domini. — Peksius. 

The  next  two  or  three  days  I  spent  in  visiting  all  my  male 
friends  in  the  Lower  House,  and  engaging  them  to  dine  with 

me,  preparatory  to  the  great  act  of  voting  on 's  motion.     I 

led  them  myself  to  the  House  of  Commons,  and  not  feeling  suf- 
ficiently interested  in  the  debate  to  remain,  as  a  stranger,  where 
I  ought,  in  my  own  opinion,  to  have  acted  as  a  performer,  I 
went  to  Brooke's  to  wait  the  resuU.  Lord  Gravelton,  a  stout, 
bluff,  six-foot  nobleman,  with  a  voice  like  a  Stentor,  was  "  blow- 
ing up"  the  waiters  in  the  coffee-room.     Mr. ,  the  author  of 

,  was  conning  the  Courier  in  a  corner  ;  and  Lord  Armadil- 

leros,  the  haughtiest  and  most  honorable  peer  in  the  calendar, 


194  PELHAM;  OR, 

was  monopolizing  the  drawing-room,  with  his  right  foot  on  one 
hob  and  his  left  on  the  other.  I  sat  myself  down  in  silence,  and 
looked  over  the  "  crack  article"  in  the  Edinburgh.  By  and  by, 
the  room  got  fuller  ;  every  one  spoke  of  the  motion  before  the 
House,  and  anticipated  the  merits  of  the  speeches,  and  the  num- 
bers of  the  voters. 

At  last  a  principal  member  entered — a  crowd  gathered  round 
him.  "  I  have  heard,"  he  said,  "  the  most  extraordinary  speech, 
for  the  combination  of  knowledge  and  imagination,  that  I  ever 
recollect  to  have  listened  to." 

"  From  Gaskell,  I  suppose  ?  "  was  the  miiversal  cry. 

"  No,"  said  Mr. ,  "  Gaskell  has  not  yet  spoken.   It  was  frouT 

a  young  man  who  has  only  just  taken  his  seat.  It  was  received 
with  the  most  unanimous  cheers,  and  was,  indeed,  a  remarkable 
display." 

"  What  's  his  name  1 "  I  asked,  already  half  foreboding  the 
answer. 

"I  only  just  learnt  it  as  I  left  the  House,"  replied  Mr. ; 

"  the  speaker  was  Sir  Reginald  Glanville." 

Then,  every  one  of  those  whom  I  had  often  before  heard  cen^ 
sure  Glanville  for  his  rudeness,  or  laugh  at  him  for  his  eccentric- 
ity,  opened  their  mouths  in  congratulations  to  their  own  wisdom, 
for  having  long  admired  his  talents  and  predicted  his  success. 

I  left  the  "  turba  Remi  seqiiens  fortunatn ; "  I  felt  agitated  and 
feverish ;  those  who  have  unexpectedly  heard  of  the  success  of 
a  man  for  whom  great  affection  is  blended  with  greater  interest, 
can  understand  the  restlessness  of  mind  with  which  I  wandered 
into  the  streets.  The  air  was  cold  and  nipping.  I  was  button- 
ing my  coat  round  my  chest,  when  I  heard  a  voice  say,  "  You 
have  dropped  your  glove,  Mr.  Pelham." 

The  speaker  was  Thornton.  I  thanked  him  coldly  for  his  civ- 
ility, and  was  going  on,  when  he  said,  "  If  your  way  is  up  Pall 
Mall,  I  have  no  objection  to  join  you  for  a  few  minutes." 

I  bowed  with  some  hauteur ;  but  as  I  seldom  refuse  any  oppor- 
tunity of  knowing  more  perfectly  individual  character,  I  said  I 
should  be  happy  of  his  company  so  long  as  our  way  lay  together, 

"  It  is  a  cold  night,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  Thornton,  after  a  pause, 
"  I  have  been  dining  at  Hatchett's,  with  an  old  Paris  acquaint- 
ance :  I  am  sorry  we  did  not  meet  more  often  in  France,  but  I 
was  so  taken  up  with  my  friend  Mr.  Warburton." 

As  Thornton  uttered  that  name,  he  looked  hard  at  me,  and 
then  added,  "  By  the  by,  I  saw  you  with  Sir  Reginald  Glanville 
the  other  day  ;  you  know  him  well,  I  presume  ? " 

"  Tolerably  well,"  said  I,  with  indifference. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GEA'TLEMAN.  195 

"  What  a  strange  character  he  is,"  rejoined  Thornton  ;  "  /also 
have  known  him  for  some  years,"  and  again  Thornton  looked 
pryingly  into  my  comitenance.  Poor  fool  1  it  was  not  for  a  pene- 
tration like  his  to  read  the  cor  inscrutabile  of  a  man  born  and 
bred  like  me,  in  the  consummate  dissimulation  of  bon  ton. 

"  He  is  very  rich,  is  he  not  ?  "  said  Thornton,  after  a  brief  si 
lence. 

"  I  believe  so,"  said  I. 

"  Humph  !  "  answered  Thornton.  "  Things  have  grown  better 
with  him,  in  proportion  as  they  grew  worse  with  me,  who  have 
had  '  as  good  luck  as  the  cow  that  stuck  herself  with  her  own 
horn.'  I  suppose  he  is  not  too  anxious  to  recollect  me — 'pov- 
erty parts  fellowship.'  Well,  hang  pride,  say  I ;  give  me  an  hon- 
est heart  all  the  year  round,  in  summer  or  winter,  drought  or 
plenty.  Would  to  heaven  some  kind  friend  would  lend  me  twenty 
pounds ! " 

To  this  wish  I  made  no  reply.     Thornton  sighed. 

"Mr.  Pelham,"  renewed  he,  "it  is  true  I  have  known  you 
but  a  short  time — excuse  the  liberty  I  take — but  if  you  could 
lend  me  a  trifle,  it  would  really  assist  me  very  much." 

"Mr.  Thornton,"  said  I,  "if  I  knew  you  better,  and  could 
serve  you  more,  you  might  apply  to  me  for  a  more  real  assist- 
ance than  any  bagatelle  I  could  afford  you  would  be.  If  twenty 
pounds  would  really  be  of  service  to  you,  I  will  lend  them  to 
you,  upon  this  condition,  that  you  never  ask  me  for  another 
farthing." 

Thornton's  face  brightened.  "  A  thousand,  thousand — "  he 
began. 

"  No,"  interrupted  I,  "  no  thanks,  only  your  promise." 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  Thornton,  "I  will  never  ask  you  for 
another  farthing." 

"  There  is  honor  among  thieves,"  thought  I,  and  so'I  took  out 
the  sum  mentioned,  and  gave  it  to  him.  In  good  earnest, 
though  I  disliked  the  man,  his  threadbare  garments  and  altered 
appearance  moved  me  to  compassion.  While  he  was  pocketing 
the  money,  which  he  did  with  tlie  most  unequivocal  delight,  a 
tall  figure  passed  us  rapidly.  We  both  turned  at  the  same  in- 
stant, and  recognized  Glanville.  He  had  not  gone  seven  yards 
beyond  us,  before  we  observed  his  steps,  which  were  very  irreg- 
ular, pause  suddenly ;  a  moment  afterwards  he  fell  against  the 
iron  rails  of  an  area ;  we  hastened  towards  him  ;  he  was  appar- 
ently fainting.  His  countenance  was  perfectly  livid,  and 
marked  with  the  traces  of  extreme  exhaustion.     I  sent  Thorn- 


196  PELIIAM ;  OR, 

ton  to  the  nearest  public-house  for  some  water ;  before  he  re^ 
turned,  Granville  had  recovered. 

"  All — all — in  vain,"  he  said,  slowly,  and  unconsciously, 
"  death  is  the  only  Lethe." 

He  started  when  he  saw  me.  I  made  him  lean  on  my  arm, 
and  we  walked  on  slowly. 

"  I  have  already  heard  of  your  speech,"  said  I.  Glanville 
smiled  with  the  usual  faint  and  sicklied  expression,  which  made 
his  smile  painful  even  in  its  exceeding  sweetness. 

"  You  have  also  already  seen  its  effects ;  the  excitement  was 
too  much  for  me." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  proud  moment  when  you  sat  down," 
said  I. 

"  It  was  one  of  the  bitterest  I  ever  felt — it  was  fraught  with 
the  memory  of  the  dead.  What  are  all  honors  to  me  now .'' — O 
God  !  O  God  !  have  mercy  upon  me  !  " 

And  Granville  stopped  suddenly,  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
temples. 

By  this  time  Thornton  had  joined  us.  When  Glanville's  eyes 
rested  upon  him,  a  deep  hectic  rose  slowly  and  gradually  over 
his  cheeks.  Thornton's  lip  curled  with  a  malicious  expression. 
Glanville  marked  it,  and  his  brow  grew  on  the  moment  as  black 
as  night. 

"  Begone  !  "  he  said  in  a  loud  voice,  and  with  a  flashing  eye, 
"  begone  instantly ;  I  loathe  the  very  sight  of  so  base  a  thing." 

Thornton's  quick,  restless  eye,  grew  like  a  living  coal,  and  he 
bit  his  lip  so  violently  that  the  blood  gushed  out.  He  made, 
however,  no  other  answer  than — 

"You  seem  agitated  to-night,  Sir  Reginald;  I  wish  your 
speedy  restoration  to  better  health.     Mr.  Pelham,  your  servant." 

Glanville  walked  on  in  silence  till  we  came  to  his  door ;  we 
parted  there  ;  and,  for  want  of  any  thing,  better  to  do,  I  saun- 
tered towards  the  M Hell.     There  were  only  about  ten  or 

twelve  persons  in  the  rooms,  and  all  were  gathered  round  the 
hazard  table — I  looked  on  silently,  seeing  the  knaves  devour  the 
fools,  and  younger  brothers  make  up  in  wit  for  the  deficiencies 
of  fortune. 

The  Honorable  Mr.  Blagrave  come  up  to  me ;  "  Do  you 
never  play  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Sometimes,"  was  my  brief  reply. 

"  Lend  me  a  hundred  pounds  !  "  rejoined  my  kind  acquaint- 
ance. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  make  you  the  same  request,"  said  I. 

Blagrave  laughed  heartily.     "  Well,"  said  he,  "be   my  secuj. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  197 

ity  to  a  Jew,  and  I'll  be  yours.     My  fellow  lends  me  money  at 

only  forty  per  cent.     My  governor  is  a  d d  stingy  old  fellow, 

for  I  am  the  most  moderate  son  in  the  universe.  I  neither 
hunt  nor  race,  nor  have  I  any  one  favorite  expense,  except  gamb- 
ling, and  he  don't  satisfy  me  in  that — now  I  call  such  conduct 
shameful  ! " 

"  Unheard-of  barbarity,"  said  I  ;  "  and  you  do  well  to  ruin 
your  property  by  Jews,  before  you  have  it ;  you  could  not  avenge 
yourself  better  on  '  the  governor.'  " 

"  No,  hang  it,"  said  Blagrave,  "  leave  me  alone  for  that ! 
Well,  I  have  got  five  pounds  left,  I  shall  go  and  slap  it  down." 

No  sooner  had  he  left  me  than  I  was  accosted  by  Mr. ,  a 

handsome  adventurer,  who  lived  the  devil  knew  how,  for  the 
devil  seemed  to  take  excellent  care  of  him. 

"  Poor  Blagrave  !  "  said  he,  eyeing  the  countenance  of  that 
ingenious  youth.  "  He  is  a  strange  fellow — he  asked  me  the 
other  day,  if  I  ever  read  the  History  of  England,  and  told  me 
there  was  a  great  deal  in  it  about  his  ancestor,  a  Roman  Gen- 
eral, in  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror,  called  Caractacus. 
He  told  me  at  the  last  Newmarket,  that  he  had  made  up  a  capi- 
tal book,  and  it  turned  out  that  he  had  hedged  with  such  dex- 
terity, that  he  must  lose  one  thousand  pounds,  and  he  inig/it\ose. 

two.     Well,  well,"  continued ,  with  a  sanctified  expression  ; 

"  I  would  sooner  see  those  real  fools  here,  than  the  confounded 
scoundrels,  who  pillage  one  under  a  false  appearance.  Never, 
Mr.  Pelham,  trust  to  a  man  at  a  gaming-house  ;  the  honestest 
look  hides  the  worst  sharper !  Shall  you  try  your  luck  to- 
night ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I.     "  I  shall  only  look  on." 

sauntered  to  the  table,  and  sat  down  next  to  a  rich  young 

man,    of   the   best   temper   and   the   worst   luck  in  the  world. 

After  a  few  throws, said  to  him.     "  Lord ,  do  put  your 

money  aside — you  have  so  much  on  the  table,  that  it  interferes 
with  mine — and  that  is  really  so  unpleasant.  Suppose  you  put 
some  of  it  in  your  pocket." 

Lord took  a  handful  of  notes,  and  stuffed  them  care- 
lessly in  his  coat-pocket.     Five  minutes  afterwards  I  saw ^ 

insert  his  hand,  empty,  in  his  neighbor's  pocket,  and  bring  it 
out/u// — and  half  an  hour  afterwards  he  handed  over  a  fifty 
pound  note  to  the  marker,  saying,  "  There,  sir,  is  my  debt  to  you. 

God  bless  me.  Lord ,  how  you  /ia7>e  won  ;  I  wish  you  would 

not  leave  all  your  money  about — do  put  it  in  your  pocket  with 
the  rest." 

Lord (who  had  perceived  the  trick,  though  he  was  too  in 


198  PELHAM;  OR, 

dolent  to  resist  it)  laughed.    "  No,  no, ,"  said  he,  "  you  must 

let  me  keep  some  .f'' 

■ colored,  and  soon  after  rose.     "  D — n  my  luck  !  "  said 

he,  as  he  passed  me.  "  I  wonder  I  continue  to  play — but  there 
are  such  sharpers  in  the  room.  Avoid  a  gaming-house,  Mr,  Pel- 
ham,  if  you  wish  to  live." 

"  And'  let  live,"  thought  I. 

I  was  just  going  away,  when  I  heard  a  loud  laugh  on  the 
stairs,  and  immediately  afterwards  Thornton  entered,  joking  with 
one  of  the  markers.  He  did  not  see  me  ;  but  approaching  the 
table,  drew  out  the  identical  twenty  pound  note  I  had  given  him, 
and  asked  for  change  with  the  air  of  a  viillionaire.  I  did  not 
wait  to  witness  his  fortune,  good  or  ill ;  I  cared  too  little  about 
it.  I  descended  the  stairs,  and  the  servant,  on  opening  the  door 
for  me,  admitted  Sir  John  Tyrrell.  "  What,"  I  thought,  "  is  the 
habit  still  so  strong.?  "  We  stopped  each  other,  and  after  a  few 
words  of  greeting,  I  went,  once  more,  up  stairs  with  him. 

Thornton  was  playing  as  eagerly  with  his  small  quota  as  Lord 

C with  his  ten  thousands.     He  nodded  with  an  affected  air 

of  familiarity  to  Tyrrell,  who  returned  his  salutation  with  the 
most  supercilious  hauteur ;  and  very  soon  afterwards  the  bar- 
onet was  utterly  engrossed  by  the  chances  of  the  game.  I  had, 
however,  satisfied  my  curiosity,  in  ascertaining  that  there  was  no 
longer  any  intimacy  between  him  and  Thornton,  and  accord- 
ingly once  more  I  took  my  departure. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 


-The  times  have  been 


That  when  the  brains  were  out,  the  man  would  die, 
And  there  an  end — but  now  they  rise  again. — Macbeth. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  to  see  a  man  like  Glanville,  with  costly 
tastes,  luxurious  habits,  great  talents  peculiarly  calculated  foi 
display,  courted  by  the  highest  members  of  the  state,  admired 
for  his  beauty  and  genius  by  half  the  women  in  London,  yet  liv- 
ing  in  the  most  ascetic  seclusion  from  his  kind,  and  indulging 
in  the  darkest  and  most  morbid  despondency.  No  female  was 
ever  seen  to  win  even  his  momentary  glance  of  admiration.  All 
the  senses  appeared  to  have  lost,  for  him,  their  customary  allure- 
meats.  He  lived  among  his  books,  and  seemed  to  make  his  fa- 
vorite companions  amidst  the  past.  At  nearly  all  hours  of  the 
night  he  was  awake  and  occupied,  and  at  day-break  his  horse  was 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  199 

always  brought  to  his  door.  He  rode  alone  for  several  hours,  and 
then,  on  his  return,  he  was  employed  till  the  hour  he  went  to  the 
House,  in  the  affairs  and  politics  of  the  day.  Ever  since  his  de- 
hut^  he  had  entered  with  much  constancy  into  the  more  leading 
debates,  and  his  speeches  were  invariably  of  the  same  command- 
ing order  which  had  characterized  his  first. 

It  was  singular  that,  in  his  parliamentary  display,  as  in  his 
ordinary  conversation,  there  were  none  of  the  wild  and  specula- 
tive opinions,  or  the  burning  enthusiasm  of  romance,  in  which 
the  natural  inclination  of  his  mind  seemed  so  essentially  to  de- 
light. His  arguments  were  always  remarkable  for  the  sound- 
ness of  the  principles  on  which  they  were  based,  and  the  logical 
clearness  with  which  they  were  expressed.  The  feverish  fervor 
of  his  temperament  was,  it  is  true,  occasionally  shown  in  a  re* 
markable  energy  of  delivery,  or  a  sudden  and  unexpected  burst 
of  the  more  impetuous  powers  of  oratory  ;  but  these  were  so  ev- 
idently natural  and  spontaneous,  and  so  happily  adapted  to  be 
impressive  of  the  subject,  rather  than  irrelevant  from  its  bear- 
ings, that  they  never  displeased  even  the  oldest  and  coldest 
cynics  and  calculators  of  the  House. 

It  is  no  uncommon  contradiction  in  human  nature  (and  in 
Glanville  it  seemed  peculiarly  prominent)  to  find  men  of  imag- 
ination and  genius  gifted  with  the  strongest  common  sense,  for 
the  admonition  or  benefit  of  others,  even  while  constantly  neg- 
lecting (o  exert  it.  for  themselves.  He  was  soon  marked  out  as 
the  most  promising  and  important  of  all  the  junior  members  of 
the  House  ;  and  the  coldness  with  which  he  kept  aloof  from 
social  intercourse  with  the  party  he  adopted,  only  served  to  in- 
crease their  respect,  though  it  prevented  their  affection. 

Lady  Roseville's  attachment  to  him  was  scarcely  a  secret  •, 
the  celebrity  of  her  name  in  the  world  of  ton  made  her  least 
look  or  action  the  constant  subject  of  present  remark  and  after 
conversation  ;  and  there  were  too  many  moments,  even  in  the 
watchful  publicity  of  society,  when  that  charming  but  impru- 
dent person  forgot  everything  but  the  romance  of  her  attach- 
ment. Glanville  seemed  not  only  perfectly  untouched  by  it,  but 
even  wholly  unconscious  of  its  existence,  and  preserved  invaria- 
bly, whenever  he  was  forced  into  the  crowd,  the  same  stern, 
cold,  unsympathizing  reserve,  which  made  him,  at  once,  an  ob- 
ject of  universal  conversation  and  dislike. 

Three  weeks  after  Glanville's  first  speech  in  the  House,  I 
called  upon  him,  with  a  proposal  from  Lord  Dawton.  After  we 
had  discussed  it,  we  spoke  on  more  familiar  topics,  and,  at  last, 
he  mentioned  Thornton.     It  will  be  observed  that  we  had  never 


2CX5  PELHAM ;  OR, 

conversed  respecting  that  person  ;  nor  had  Granville  once  allud- 
ed to  our  former  meetings,  or  to  his  disguised  appearance  and 
false  appellation  at  Paris.  Whatever  might  be  the  mystery,  it 
was  evidently  of  a  painful  nature,  and  it  was  not,  therefore,  for 
me  to  allude  to  it.  This  day  he  spoke  of  Thornton  with  a  tone 
of  indifference. 

"The  man,"  he  said,  "  I  have  known  for  some  time;  he  was 
useful  to  me  abroad,  and,  notwithstanding  his  character,  I  re- 
warded him  well  for  his  services.  He  has  since  applied  to  me 
several  times  for  money,  which  is  spent  at  the  gambling-house 
as  soon  as  it  is  obtained.  I  believe  him  to  be  leagued  with  a 
gang  of  sharpers  of  the  lowest  description  ;  and  I  am  really  un- 
willing any  farther  to  supply  the  vicious  necessities  of  himself 
and  his  comrades.  He  is  a  mean,  mercenary  rascal,  who  would 
scruple  at  no  enormity,  provided  he  was  paid  for  it !  " 

Glanville  paused  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  added,  while 
his  cheek  blushed,  and  his  voice  seemed  somewhat  hesitating 
and  embarrassed — 

"  You  remember  Mr.  Tyrrell,  at  Paris  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I — "  he  is,  at  present,  in  London,  and — "  Glan- 
ville started  as  if  he  had  been  shot. 

"  No,  no,"  he  exclaimed  wildly — "  he  died  at  Paris,  from 
want, — from  starvation." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  I ;  "he  is  now  Sir  John  Tyrrell, 
and  possessed  of  considerable  property.  I  saw  him  myself, 
three  weeks  ago." 

Glanville,  laying  his  hand  upon  my  arm,  looked  in  my  face 
with  a  long,  stern,  prying  gaze,  and  his  cheek  grew  more  ghastly 
and  livid  with  every  moment.  At  last  he  turned,  and  muttered 
something  between  his  teeth ;  and  at  that  moment  the  door 
opened,  and  Thornton  was  announced.  Glanville  sprang 
towards  him,  and  seized  him  by  the  throat ! 

"  Dog  !  "  he  cried,  "you  have  deceived  me — Tyrrell  lives  !  " 

"  Hands  off  !  "  cried  the  gamester,  with  a  savage  grin  of  de- 
fiance— "  Hands  off  !  or,  by  the  Lord  that  made  me,  you  shall 
have  gripe  for  gripe  !  " 

"Ho,  wretch!"  said  Glanville,  shaking  him  violently,  while 
his  worn  and  slender,  yet  still  powerful  frame,  trembled  with 
the  excess  of  his  passion ;  "  dost  thou  dare  to  threaten  me  ! " 
and  with  these  words  he  flung  Thornton  against  the  opposite 
wall  with  such  force,  that  the  blood  gushed  out  of  his  mouth  and 
nostrils.  The  gambler  rose  slowly,  and  wiping  the  blood  from 
his  face,  fixed  his  malignant  and  fiery  eye  upon  his  aggressor, 


.     ,  ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  ■-        201 

with  an  expression  of  collected  hate  and  vengeance,  that  made 
my  very  blood  creep. 

"  It  is  not  my  day  now,"  he  said,  with  a  calm,  quiet,  cold 
voice,  and  then,  suddenly  changing  his  manner,  he  approached 
me  with  a  sort  of  bow,  and  made  some  remark  on  the  weather. 

Meanwhile,  Glanville  had  sunk  on  the  sofa  exhausted,  less  by 
his  late  effort  than  the  convulsive  passion  which  had  produced 
it.  He  rose  in  a  few  moments,  and  said  to  Thornton,  "  Pardon 
my  violence  ;  let  this  pay  your  bruises ;  "  and  he  placed  a  long 
and  apparently  well-filled  purse  in  Thornton's  hand.  That  ver- 
itable philosophe  took  it  with  the  same  air  as  a  dog  receives  the 
first  caress  from  the  hand  which  has  just  chastised  him  ;  and 
feeling  the  purse  between  his  short,  hard  fingers,  as  if  to  ascertain 
the  soundness  of  its  condition,  quietly  slid  it  into  his  breeches- 
pocket,  which  he  then  buttoned  with  care,  and  pulling  his  waist- 
coat down,  as  if  for  further  protection  to  the  deposit,  he  turned 
towards  Glanville,  and  said,  in  his  usual  quaint  style  of  vulgarity— 

"  Least  said.  Sir  Reginald,  the  soonest  mended.  Gold  is  a 
good  plaister  for  bad  bruises.  Now,  then,  your  will  : — ask 
and  I  will  answer  unless  you  think  Mr.  Pelham — de  tropT 

I  was  already  at  the  door,  with  the  intention  of  leaving  the 
room,  when  Glanville  cried,  "  Stay,  Pelham,  I  have  but  one 
question  to  ask  Mr.  Thornton.     Is  John  Tyrrell  still  living?" 

"  He  is  !  "  answered  Thornton,  with  a  sardonic  smile. 

"  And  beyond  all  want  ?  "  resumed  Glanville. 

"  He  is  !  "  was  the  tautological  reply. 

"  Mr.  Thornton,"  said  Glanville,  with  a  calm  voice,  "  I  have 
now  done  with  you — you  may  leave  the  room  ! " 

Thornton  bowed  with  an  air  of  ironical  respect,  and  obeyeo 
the  command. 

I  turned  to  look  at  Glanville.  His  countenance,  always  bet 
ter  adapted  to  a  stern,  than  a  soft  expression,  was  perfectly 
fearful  :  every  line  in  it  seemed  dug  into  a  furrow  ;  the  brows 
were  bent  over  his  large  and  flashing  eyes  with  a  painful  inten- 
sity of  anger  and  resolve,  his  teeth  were  clenched  firmly  as  if  by 
a  vice,  and  the  thin  upper  lip,  which  was  drawn  from  them  with 
a  bitter  curl  of  scorn,  was  as  white  as  death.  His  right  hand 
had  closed  upon  the  back  of  the  chair,  over  which  his  tall  ner- 
vous frame  leant,  and  was  grasping  it  with  an  iron  force,  which 
it  could  not  support  :  it  snapped  beneath  his  hand  like  a  hazel 
stick.  This  accident,  slight  as  it  was,  recalled  him  to  himself. 
He  apologized  with  apparent  self-possession  for  his  disorder, 
and,  after  a  few  words  of  fervent  and  affectionate  farewell  on 
my  iDart,  1  left  him  to  the  solitude  which  1  knew  he  desired. 


202 


PELHAM ;  OR. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 


While  I  seemed  only  intent  upon  pleasure,  T  locked  in  my  heart  the  con- 
sciousness and  vanity  of  power ;  in  the  levity  of  the  lip,  I  disguised  the 
knowledge  and  the  workings  of  the  brain  ;  and  I  looked,  as  with  a  gifted 
eye,  upon  the  mysteries  of  the  hidden  depths,  while  I  seemed  to  float  an 
idler  with  the  herd  only  upon  the  surface  of  the  stream. — Falkland. 

As  I  walked  home,  revolving  the  scene  I  had  witnessed,  the 
words  of  Tyrrell  came  into  my  recollection — viz.  that  the  cause 
of  Glanville's  dislike  to  him  had  arisen  in  Tyrrell's  greater  suc- 
cess in  some  youthful  liaison.  In  this  account  I  could  not  see 
much  probability.  In  the  first  place,  the  cause  was  not  suffi- 
cient to  produce  such  an  effect ;  and,  in  the  second,  there  was 
but  little  likelihood  that  the  young  and  rich  Glanville,  possessed 
of  the  most  various  accomplishments,  and  the  most  remarkable 
personal  beauty,  should  be  supplanted  by  a  needy  spendthrift 
(as  Tyrrell  at  that  time  was),  of  coarse  manners,  and  unpolished 
mind ;  with  a  person  not,  indeed,  unprepossessing,  but  some 
what  touched  by  time,  and  never  more  comparable  to  Glanville's 
than  that  of  the  Satyr  to  Hyperion. 

While  I  was  meditating  over  a  mystery  which  excited  my 
curiosity  more  powerfully  than  anything,  not  relating  to  him- 
self, ought  ever  to  occupy  the  attention  of  a  wise  man,  I  was  ac- 
costed by  Vincent :  the  difference  in  our  politics  had  of  late 
much  dissevered  us,  and  when  he  took  my  arm,  and  drew  me  up 
Bond-street,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  at  his  condescension. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said  ;  "  once  more  I  offer  you  a  settlement 
in  our  colony.  There  will  be  great  changes  soon  :  trust  me,_so 
radical  a  party  as  that  you  have  adopted  can  never  come  in  : 
ours,  on  the  contrary,  is  no  less  moderate  than  liberal.  This  is 
the  last  time  of  asking  ;  for  I  know  you  will  soon  have  exposed 
your  opinions  in  public  more  openly  than  you  have  yet  done, 
and  then  it  will  be  too  late.  At  present,  I  hold,  with  Hudibras, 
and  the  ancients,  that  it  is — 

*  More  honorable  far,  servare 
Civem,  than  slay  an  adversary.'  " 

"  Alas,  Vincent,"  said  I,  "  I  am  marked  out  for  slaughter  : 
for  you  cannot  convince  me  by  words,  and  so,  I  suppose,  you 
must  conquer  me  by  blows.  Adieu,  this  is  my  way  to  Lord 
Dawton's  :  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  mount  my  horse,   and  join  the  J)ana  juventus."  said 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  203 

Vincent,  with  a  laugh  at  his  own  witticism,  as  we  shook  hands, 
and  parted. 

I  grieve  much,  my  beloved  reader,  that  I  cannot  unfold  to 
thee  all  the  particulars  of  my  political  intrigue.  I  am,  by  the 
very  share  which  fell  to  my  lot,  bound  over  to  the  strictest 
secrecy,  as  to  its  nature,  and  the  characters  of  the  chief  agents 
in  its  execution.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  greater  part  of  my 
time  was,  though  furtively,  employed  in  a  sort  of  home  diploma- 
cy, gratifying  alike  to  the  activity  of  my  tastes,  and  the  vanity 
of  my  mind.  I  had  filled  Dawton,  and  his  coadjutors,  with  an 
exaggerated  opinion  of  my  abilities  ;  but  I  knew  well  how  to  sus- 
tain it.  I  rose  by  candle-light,  and  consumed,  in  the  intensest 
application,  the  hours  which  every  other  individual  of  our  party 
wasted  in  enervating  slumbers,  from  the  hesternal  dissipation 
or  debauch.  Was  there  a  question  in  political  economy 
debated,  mine  was  the  readiest  and  the  clearest  reply.  Did  a 
period  in  our  constitution  become  investigated,  it  was  I  to  whom 
the  duty  of  expositor  was  referred.  From  Madame  d'Anville, 
with  whom  (though  lost  as  a  lover)  I  constantly  corresponded 
as  a  friend,  I  obtained  the  earliest  and  most  accurate  detail  of 
the  prospects  and  manoeuvres  of  the  court  in  which  her  life  was 
spent,  and  in  whose  more  secret  offices  her  husband  was  em- 
ployed. I  spared  no  means  of  extending  my  knowledge  of  even 
the  minutest  point  which  could  add  to  the  reputation  I  enjoyed. 
I  made  myself  acquainted  with  the  individual  interests  and 
exact  circumstances  of  all  whom  it  was  our  object  to  intimidate 
or  to  gain.  It  was  I  who  brought  to  the  House  the  younger 
and  idler  members,  whom  no  more  nominally  powerful  agent 
could  allure  from  the  ball-room  or  the  gaming-house. 

In  short,  while,  by  the  dignity  of  my  birth,  and  the  independ- 
ent hauteur  of  my  bearing,  I  pieserved  the  rank  of  an  equal 
amongst  the  highest  of  the  set,  I  did  not  scruple  to  take  upon 
myself  the  labor  and  activity  of  the  most  subordinate.  Dawton 
declared  me  his  right  hand  ;  and  though  I  knew  myself  rather 
his  head  than  his  hand,  I  pretended  Uj  feel  proud  of  the  appel- 
lation. 

Meanwhile,  it  was  my  pleasure  to  wear  in  society  the  eccen- 
tric costume  of  character  I  had  first  adopted,  and  to  cultivate 
the  arts  which  won  from  women  the  smile  that  cheered  and  en- 
couraged me  in  my  graver  contest  with  men.  It  was  only  to 
Ellen  Glanville  that  I  laid  aside  an  affectation,  which,  I  knew, 
was  little  likely  to  attract  a  taste  so  refined  and  unadulterated  as 
hers.  I  discovered  in  her  a  mind  which,  while  it  charmed  me  by 
its  tenderness    and  freshness,    elevated    me    bv    its   loftiness  of 


204  PELHAM;  OR, 

thought.  She  was,  at  heart,  perhaps,  as  ambitious  a?s  myself ; 
but  while  my  aspirations  were  concealed  by  affectation,  hers  were 
softened  by  her  timidity,  and  purified  by  her  religion.  There 
were  moments  when  I  opened  myself  to  her,  and  caught  a  new 
spirit  from  her  look  of  sympathy  and  enthusiasm. 

"  Yes,"  thought  I,  "  I  do  long  for  honors,  but  it  is  that  I  may 
ask  her  to  share  and  ennoble  them."  In  fine,  I  loved  as  other  men 
loved — and  I  fancied  a  perfection  in  her,  and  vowed  an  emula- 
tion in  myself,  which  it  was  reserved  for  Time  to  ratify  or 
deride. 

Where  did  I  leave  myself  ?  as  the  Irishman  said  ; — on  my  road 
to  Lord  Dawton's.  I  was  lucky  enough  to  find  that  personage 
at  home ;  he  was  writing  at  a  table  covered  with  pamphlets  and 
books  of  reference. 

"  Hush !  Pelham,"  said  his  lordship,  who  is  a  quiet,  grave, 
meditative  little  man,  always  ruminating  on  a  very  small  cud — 
"  hush  !  or  do  oblige  me  by  looking  over  this  history,  to  find  out 
the  date  of  the  council  of  Pisa." 

"  That  will  do,  my  young  friend,"  said  his  lordship,  after  I  had 
furnished  him  with  the  information  he  required — "  I  wish  to 
Heaven,  I  could  finish  this  pamphlet  by  to-morrow  :  it  is  intended 

as  an  answer  to ,     But  I  am  so  perplexed  with  business 

that " 

"Perhaps,"  said  I,  "if  you  will  pardon  my  interrupting  you, 
I  can  throw  your  observations  together — make  your  Sibylline 
leaves  into  a  book.  Your  lordship  will  find  the  matter,  and  I 
will  not  spare  the  trouble." 

Lord  Dawton  was  profuse  in  his  thanks  ;  he  explained  the 
subject,  and  left  the  arrangement  wholly  to  me.  He  could  not 
presume  to  dictate.  I  promised  him,  if  he  lent  me  the  neces- 
sary books,  to  finish  the  pamphlet  against  the  following  even- 
ing. 

"  And  now,"  said  Lord  Dawton — "  that  we  have  settled  this 

affair — what  news  from  France  ?  " — 

*  *  *  * 

*  *  *  * 

*  #  #  * 

"  I  wish,"  sighed  Lord  Dawton,  as  we  were  calculating  our 
forces,  "  that  we  could  gain  over  Lord  Guloseton." 

"  What,  the  facetious  epicure  1  "  said  I. 

"  The  same,"  answered  Dawton  :  "  we  want  him  as  a  dinner- 
giver  ;  and,  besides,  he  has  four  votes  in  the  Lower  House." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "he  is  indolent  and  independent — it  is  not 
impossible." 


* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

# 

* 

* 

# 

ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  205 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  answered  Dawton. 
"  No,"  said  I. 

Dawton  sighed. — "  And  young  A ?  "   said  the  statesman, 

after  a  pause. 

"  Has  an  expensive  mistress,  and  races.  Your  lordship  might 
be  sure  of  him,  were  you  in  power,  and  sure  not  to  have  him 
while  you  are  out  of  it." 

"  And  B. .''  "  rejoined  Dawton. 

#  #  4t=  #  *  «  # 

******* 

****** 


PELHAM; 


OR, 

ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN. 


PART    II. 


CHAPTER  LVIIL 


Mangez-vous  bien,  Monsieur  ? 

Oui,  et  bois  encore  mieux. — Alons.  de  Porceatignac. 

My  pamphlet  took  prodigiously.  The  authorship  was  attrib- 
uted to  one  of  the  ablest  members  of  the  Opposition ;  and 
t?iough  there  were  many  errors  in  style,  and  (I  now  think — then 
I  did  not,  or  I  should  not,  have  written  them,)  many 
sophisms  in  the  reasoning,  yet  it  carried  the  end  proposed 
by  all  ambition  of  whatever  species — and  imposed  upon  the 
taste  of  the  public. 

Some  time  afterwards,  I  was  going  down  the  stairs  at  Almack's 
when  I  heard  an  altercation,  high  and  grave,  at  the  door  of 
reception.  To  my  surprise,  I  found  Lord  Guloseton  and  a  very 
young  man  in  great  wrath  ;  the  latter  had  never  been  to  Almack's 
before,  and  had  forgotten  his  ticket.  Guloseton,  who  belonged 
to  a  very  different  set  from  that  of  the  Almackians,  insisted  that 
his  word  was  enough  to  bear  his  juvenile  companion  through. 
The  ticket-inspector  was  irate  and  obdurate,  and,  having  seldom 
or  never  seen  Lord  Guloseton  himself,  paid  very  little  respect  to 
his  authority. 

As  I  was  wrapping  myself  in  my  cloak,  Guloseton  turned  to 
me,  for  passion  makes  men  open  their  hearts  :  too  eager  for  an 
opportunity  of  acquiring  the  epicure's  acquaintance,!  offered  to 
get  his  friend  admittance  in  an  instant;  the  offer  was  delightedly 
accepted,  and  I  soon  procured  a  small  piece  of  pencilled  paper 

from    Lady which    effectually    silenced   the   Charon,    and 

opened  the  Stygian  via  to  the  Elysium  beyond. 

Guloseton  overwhelmed  me  with  his  thanks.  I  remounted 
the  stairs  with  him — took  every  opportunity  of  ingratiating  jmy- 
self — received  an  invitation  to  dinner  on  the  following  day, 
and  left  Willis's  transported  at  the  goodness  of  my  fortune. 


2o8  PELHAM;  OR, 

At  the  hour  of  eight  on  the  ensuing  evening,  I  had  just  made 
my  entrance  in  Lord  Guloseton's  drawing-room.  It  was  a  small 
apartment,  furnished  with  luxury  and  some  taste.  A  Venus  of 
Titian's  was  placed  over  the  chimney-piece,  in  all  the  gorgeous 
voluptuousness  of  her  unveiled  beauty — the  pouting  lip,  not 
silent  though  shut — the  elociuent  lid  drooping  over  the  eye,  whose 
glances  you  could  so  easily  imagine — the  arms — the  limbs — the 
attitude,  so  composed,  yet  so  full  of  life — all  seemed  to  indicate 
that  sleep  was  not  forgetfulness,  and  that  the  dreams  of  the 
goddess  were  not  wholly  inharmonious  with  the  waking  realities 
in  which  it  was  her  gentle  prerogative  to  indulge.  On  either 
side,  was  a  picture  of  the  delicate  and  golden  hues  of  Claude  ; 
these  were  the  only  landscapes  in  the  room  ;  the  remaining 
pictures  were  more  suitable  to  the  Venus  of  the  luxurious 
Italian.  Here  was  one  of  the  beauties  of  Sir  Peter  Lely ;  there 
was  an  admirable  copy  of  the  Hero  and  Leander.  On  the  table 
lay  the  Basia  of  Johannes  Secundus,  and  a  few  French  works  on 
Gastronomy. 

As  for  the  genius  loci — you  must  imagine  a  middle-sized,  mid- 
dle-aged man,  with  an  air  rather  of  delicate  than  florid  health. 
But  little  of  the  effects  of  his  good  cheer  was  apparent  in  the 
external  man.  His  cheeks  was  neither  swollen  nor  inflated — 
his  person,  though  not  thin,  was  of  no  unwieldy  obesity — the 
tip  of  his  nasal  organ  was,  it  is  true,  of  a  more  ruby  tinge  than 
the  rest,  and  one  carbuncle,  of  tender  age  and  gentle  dyes, 
diffused  its  mellow  and  moonlight  influence  over  the  physi- 
ognomical scenery — his  forehead  was  high  and  bald,  and  the 
few  locks  which  still  rose  above  it,  were  carefully  and  gracefully 
curled  a  Fantiqiie.  Beneath  a  pair  of  grey  shaggy  brows,  (which 
their  noble  owner  had  a  strange  habit  of  raising  and  depressing, 
according  to  the  nature  of  his  remarks,)  rolled  two  very  small 
piercing,  arch,  restless  orbs,  of  a  tender  green  ;  and  the  mouth, 
which  was  wide  and  thick-lipped,  was  expressive  of  great 
sensuality,  and  curved  upwards  in  a  perpetual  smile. 

Such  was  Lord  Guloseton.  To  my  surprise  no  other  guest 
but  myself  appeared. 

"  A  new  friend,"  said  he,  as  we  descended  into  the  dining- 
room,  "  is  like  a  new  dish — one  must  have  him  all  to  oneself, 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  and  rightly  to  understand  him." 

"  A  noble   precept,"  said  I,  with  enthusiasm.     "  Of  all  vices, 
indiscriminate    hospitality   is  the   most  pernicious.     It   allows 
neither  conversation  nor  dinner,  and,  realizing  the  mythological 
fable  of  Tantalus,  gives  us  starvation  in  the  midst  of  plenty." 
You   are   right,"   said  Guloseton,  solemnly ;  "  I  never  ask 


(< 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  2og 

above  six  persons  to  dinner,  and  I  never  dine  out ;  for  a  bad 
dinner,  Mr.  Pelham,  a  bad  dinner  is  a  most  serious — I  may  add, 
the  most  serious  calamit}%" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  for  it  carries  with  it  no  consolation  :  a 
buried  friend  may  be  replaced — a  lost  mistress  renewed — a 
slandered  character  be  recovered — even  a  broken  constitution 
restored  ;  but  a  dinner,  once  lost,  is  irremediable  ;  that  day  is 
for  ever  departed  ;  an  appetite  once  thrown  away  can  never,  till 
the  cruel  prolixity  of  the  gastric  agents  is  over,  be  regained. 
'  II y  a  taut  dc  mattresses,'  (says  the  admirable  Corneille,)  '  il 7iy 
a  qiiun  diner.' " 

"  You  speak  like  an  oracle — like  the  Cook's  Oracle,  Mr.  Pel- 
ham  :  may  I  send  you  some  soup  ? — it  is  a  la  Carmelite.  But 
what  are  you  about  to  do  with  that  case  ?  " 

"  It  contains,"  said  I,  "  my  spoon,  my  knife,  and  my  fork. 
Nature  afflicted  me  with  a  propensity,  which,  through  these 
machines,  I  have  endeavored  to  remedy  by  art.  I  eat  with  too 
great  a  rapidity.  It  is  a  most  unhappy  failing,  for  one  often 
hurries  over  in  one  minute,  what  ought  to  have  afforded  the 
fullest  delight  for  the  period  oifive.  It  is,  indeed,  a  vice  which 
deadens  enjoyment,  as  well  as  abbreviates  it ;  it  is  a  shameful 
waste  of  the  gifts,  and  a  melancholy  perversion  of  the  bounty 
of  Providence.  My  conscience  tormented  me  ;  but  the  habit, 
fatally  indulged  in"  early  childhood,  was  not  easy  to  overcome. 
At  last  I  resolved  to  construct  a  spoon  of  peculiarly  shallow 
dimensions,  a  fork  so  small,  that  it  could  only  raise  a  certain 
portion  to  my  mouth,  and  a  knife  rendered  blunt  and  jagged,  so 
that  it  required  a  proper  and  just  time  to  carve  the  goods  '  the 
gods  provide  me.'  My  lord,  '  the  lovely  Thais  sits  beside  me  ' 
in  the  form  of  a  bottle  of  Madeira.  Suffer  me  to  take  wine  with 
you  .? " 

"  With  pleasure,  my  good  friend  ;  let  us  drink  to  the  memory 
of  the  Carmelites,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  this  inimitable 
soup." 

"  Yes  !  "  I  cried.  "  Let  us  for  once  shake  off  the  prejudices 
of  sectarian  faith,  and  do  justice  to  one  order  of  those  incom- 
parable men,  who,  retiring  from  the  cares  of  an  idle  and  sinful 
world,  gave  themselves  with  undivided  zeal  and  attention  to  the 
theory  and  practice  of  the  profound  science  of  gastronomy.  It 
is  reserved  for  us  to  pay  a  grateful  tribute  of  memory,  to  those 
exalted  recluses,  who,  through  a  long  period  of  barbarism  and 
darkness  preserved,  in  the  solitude  of  their  cloisters,  whatever 
of  Roman  luxury  and  classic  dainties  have  come  down  to  this 
later  age.     We   will  drink  to  the  Carmelites  as  a  sect,  but  we 


210  PELHAM ;  OR, 

will  drink  also  to  the  monks  as  a  body.  Had  we  lived  in  those 
days,  we  had  been  monks  ourselves  ! " 

"It  is  singular,"  answered  Lord  Guloseton — "(by  the  by, 
what  do  you  think  of  this  turbot  ?) — to  trace  the  history  of  the 
kitchen  ;  it  affords  the  greatest  scope  to  the  philosopher  and 
the  moralist.  The  ancients  seemed  to  have  been  more  mental, 
more  imaginative,  than  we  are,  in  their  dishes  ;  they  fed  their 
bodies  as  well  as  their  minds  upon  delusion  :  for  instance,  they 
esteemed  beyond  all  price  the  tongues  of  nightingales,  because 
they  tasted  the  very  music  of  the  birds  in  the  organs  of  their  utter- 
ance.    That  is  what  I  call  the  poetry  of  gastronomy  !  " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  with  a  sigh,  "they  certainly  had,  in  some 
respects,  the  advantage  over  us.  Who  can  pore  over  the  sup- 
pers of  Apicius  without  the  fondest  regret  ?  The  venerable 
Ude  *  implies,  that  the  study  has  not  progressed.  '  Cookery 
(he  says,  in  the  first  part  of  his  work)  possesses  but  few  inno- 
vators.'" 

"  It  is  with  the  greatest  diffidence,"  said  Guloseton,  (his 
mouth  full  of  truth  and  turbot,)  "  that  we  may  dare  to  differ 
from  so  great  an  authority.  Indeed,  so  high  is  my  veneration 
for  that  wise  man,  that  if  all  the  evidence  of  my  sense  and 
reason  were  on  one  side,  and  the  dictum  of  the  great  Ude  upon 
the  other,  I  should  be  inclined — I  think,  I  should  be  determined 
— to  relinquish  the  former,  and  adopt  the  latter."  t 

"  Bravo,  Lord  Guloseton,"  cried  I  warmly.  "  '  Qji'un  Cuisi- 
nier  est  tin  mortel  divin  ! '  Why  should  we  not  be  proud  of  our 
knowledge  in  cookery  ?  it  is  the  soul  of  festivity  at  all  times,  and 
to  all  ages.  How  many  marriages  have  been  the  consequence 
of  meeting  at  dinner  "i  How  much  good  fortune  has  been  the 
result  of  a  good  supper  ?  At  what  moment  of  our  existence  are 
we  happier  than  at  table  ?  There  hatred  and  animosity  are 
lulled  to  sleep,  and  pleasure  alone  reigns.  Here  the  cook,  by 
his  skill  and  attention,  anticipates  our  wishes  in  the  happiest 
selection  of  the  best  dishes  and  decorations.  Here  our  wants 
are  satisfied,  our  minds  and  bodies  invigorated,  and  ourselves 
qualified  for  the  high  delights  of  love,  music,  poetry,  dancing, 
and  other  pleasures  ;  and  is  he,  whose  talents  have  produced 
these  happy  effects,  to  rank  no  higher  in  the  scale  of  man  than 
a  common  servant  ?  X 

"  '  Yes,'  cries  the  venerable  professor  himself,  in  a  virtuous 
and  prophetic  paroxysm  of  indignant  merit — '  yes,  my  disciples, 

*  Qu.     The  venerable  Bede  ?  — Printrr' s  De-iiil. 

t  See  the  speech  of  Mr.  Brougham  in  honor  of  Mr.  Fox. 

X  Ude,  verbatim. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  211 

if  you  adopt,  and  attend  to  the  rules  I  have  laid  down,  the  self- 
love  of  mankind  will  consent  at  last,  that  cookery  shall  rank  in 
the  class  of  the  sciences,  and  its  professors  deserve  the  name 
of  artists  I '"  *  • 

"  My  dear,  dear  Sir,"  exclaimed  Guloseton,  with  a  kindred 
glow,  "  I  discover  in  you  a  spirit  similar  to  my  own.  Let  us 
drink  long  life  to  the  venerable  Ude  !  " 

"  I  pledge  you  with  all  my  soul,"  said  I,  filling  my  glass  to 
the  brim. 

"  What  a  pity,"  rejoined  Guloseton,  "  that  Ude,  -whose,  practi- 
cal science  was  so  perfect,  should  ever  have  written,  or  suffered 
others  to  write,  the  work  published  under  his  name  !  True  it  is 
that  the  opening  part,  which  you  have  so  feelingly  recited,  is 
composed  with  a  grace,  a  charm  beyond  the  reach  of  art ;  but 
the  instructions  are  vapid  and  frequently  so  erroneous,  as  to 
make  us  suspect  their  authenticity  ;  but,  after  all,  cooking  is 
not  capable  of  becoming  a  written  science — it  is  the  philosophy 
of  practice  !  " 

"Ah!  by  Lucullus,"  exclaimed  I,  interrupting  my  host, 
*'  what  a  visionary  bechameUc  !  Oh,  the  inimitable  sauce  !  these 
chickens  are  indeed  worthy  of  the  honor  of  being  dressed. 
Never,  my  lord,  as  long  as  you  live,  eat  a  chicken  in  the  coun- 
try ;  excuse  a  pun,  you  will  have  foul  fare. 

'  J'ai  toujours  redoute  la  volaille  perfide, 
Qui  brave  les  efforts  d'une  dent  intrepide. 
Souvent,  par  un  ami  dans  ses  champs  entraine. 
J'ai  reconmi  le  soir  Ic  coq  infortime 
Qui  m'avait  le  matin  a  I'aurore  naissante 
Reveille  hrusquement  de  sa  voix  glapissante  ; 
Je  I'avais  admire  dans  le  sein  de  la  cour ; 
Avec  des  yeux  jaloux,  j'avais  vu  son  amour. 
HeJas!  le'malhcureux,  ahjurant  sa  tendresse, 
Exercait  au  souper  sa  fureur  vengresse.'  t 

Pardon  the  prolixity  of  the  quotation  for  the  sake  of  its  value." 
"  I  do,  I  do,"  answered  Guloseton,  laughing  at  the  humor  of 
the  lines  :  till,  suddenly  checking  himself,  he  said,  *'  We  must 

*  Ude,  verbatim. 

t  Ever  I  dread  (wtien  duped  a  day  to  spend 
At  his  snu^'  villa,  by  some  fatal  friend) 
(irim  chanticleer,  whose  breast,  devoid  of  ruth, 
Braves  the  stout  effort  of  the  desperate  tooth. 
Oft  have  I  recognized  at  eve,  the  bird 
Whose  morninfi  notes  my  ear  prophetic  heard. 
Whose  tender  courtship  won  my  pain'd  regard, 
Amidst  the  plumed  seraglio  of  the  yard. 
Tender  no  more— behold  him  in  your  plate — 
And  know,  while  eating,  you  avenge  his  fate. 


212  PELHAM;  OR, 

be  grave,  Mr.  Pelham  ■,  it  will  never  do  to  laugh.     What  would 
become  of  our  digestions  ?  " 

"  True,"  said  I  relapsing  into  seriousness  ;"  and  if  you  will 
allow  me  one  more  quotation,  you  will  see  what  my  author  adds 
with  regard  to  any  abrupt  interruption. 

'  Defendez  que  personne,  au  milieu  d'un  banquet 
Ne  vous  Vienna  donner  un  avis  indiscret ; 
Ecartex  ce  facheux  qui  vers  vous  s'achemine ; 
Rien  ne  doit  deranger  I'honnete  homnie  qui  dine.'  "  * 

"  Admirable  advice,"  said  Guloseton,  toying  with  a  filet  mig- 
non  lie poulet.  "  Do  you  remember  an  example  in  the  Bailly  of 
Suffren,  who,  being  in  India,  was  waited  upon  by  a  deputation 
of  natives  while  he  was  at  dinner  ?  '  Tell  them,'  said  he,  '  that 
the  Christian  religion  peremptorily  forbids  every  Christian, 
while  at  table,  to  occupy  himself  with  any  earthly  subject, 
except  the  function  of  eating.'  The  deputation  retired  in  the 
profoundest  respect  at  the  exceeding  clevotion  of  the  French 
general." 

"Well,"  said  I,  after  we  had  chuckled  gravely  and  quietly, 
with  the  care  of  our  digestion  before  us,  for  a  few  minutes — 
"  well,  however  good  the  invention  was,  the  idea  is  not  entirely 
new,  for  the  Greeks  esteemed  eating  and  drinking  plentifully,  a 
sort  of  offering  to  the  gods  ;  and  Aristotle  explains  the  very 
word,  Soivai,  or  feasts,  by  an  etymological  exposition,  '  that  it 
was  thought  a  duty  to  the  gods  to  be  drunk  ; '  no  bad  idea  of  our 
classical  patterns  of  antiquity.  Polypheme,  too,  in  the  Cyclops 
of  Euripides,  no  doubt  a  very  sound  theologian,  says,  his  stom- 
ach is  his  only  deity ;  atid  Xenophon  tells  us,  that  as  the 
Athenians  exceeded  all  other  people  in  the  number  of  their 
gods,  so  they  exceeded  them  also  in  the  number  of  their  feasts. 
May  I  send  your  lordship  a  quail  ?  " 

"  Pelham,  my  boy,"  said  Guloseton,  whose  eyes  began  to  roll 
and  twinkle  with  a  brilliancy  suited  to  the  various  liquids  which 
ministered  to  their  rejoicing  orbs  ;  "  I  love  you  for  your  clas- 
sics. Polypheme  was  a  wise  fellow,  a  very  wise  fellow,  and  it 
was  a  terrible  shame  in  Ulysses  to  put  out  his  eye  !  No  wonder 
that  the  ingenious  savage  made  a  deity  of  his  stomach  ;  to  what 
known  visible  source,  on  this  earth,  was  he  indebted  for  a 
keener  enjoyment — a  more  rapturous  and  a  more  constant 
delight  ?     No  wonder  he  honored  it  with  his  gratitude,  and  sup- 

*  At  meals  no  access  to  the  indiscreet ; 
All  are  intruders  on  the  wise  who  eat. 
In  that  blest  hour,  your  bore's  the  veriest  sinner ! 
Nought  must  disturb  a  man  of  worth — at  dinner. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAr\r.  213 

plied  it  witli  his  peace-offerings  ; — let  us  imitate  so  great  an 
example  : — let  us  make  our  digestive  receptacles  a  temple,  to 
which  we  will  consecrate  the  choicest  goods  we  possess  ; — let 
us  conceive  no  pecuniary  sacrifice  too  great,  which  procures  for 
our  altar  an  acceptable  gift ; — let  us  deem  it  an  impiety  to  hesi- 
tate, if  a  sauce  seems  extravagant,  or  an  ortolan  too  dear ;  and 
let  our  last  act  in  this  sublunary  existence  be  a  solemn  festival 
in  honor  of  our  unceasing  benefactor !  " 

"  Amen  to  your  creed  !  "  said  I  :  "  edibilatory  Epicurism 
holds  the  key  to  all  morality :  for  do  we  not  see  now  how  sinful 
it  is  to  yield  to  an  obscure  and  exaggerated  intemperance  ? — 
would  it  not  be  to  the  last  degree  ungrateful  to  the  high  source 
of  our  enjoyment,  to  overload  it  with  a  weight  which  would  op- 
press it  with  languor  or  harass  it  with  pain  ;  and  finally  to 
drench  away  the  effects  of  our  impiety  with  some  nauseous  po- 
tation which  revolts  it,  tortures  it,  convulses,  irritates,  enfeebles 
it,  through  every  particle  of  its  system  ?  How  wrong  in  us  to 
give  way  to  anger,  jealousy,  revenge,  or  any  evil  passion ;  for 
does  not  all  that  affect  the  mind  operate  also  upon  the  stomach ; 
and  how  can  we  be  so  vicious,  so  obdurate,  as  to  forget,  for  a 
momentary  indulgence,  our  debt  to  what  you  have  so  justly 
designated  our  perpetual  benefactor  ?  " 

"  Right,"  said  Lord  Guloseton,  "  a  bumper  to  the  Morality 
of  the  Stomach." 

The  dessert  was  now  on  the  table.  "  I  have  dined  well," 
said  Guloseton,  stretching  out  his  legs  with  an  air  of  supreme 
satisfaction  ;  "  but — "  and  here  my  philosopher  sighed  deeply 
— "  we  cannot  dine  again  till  to-7nornnv  I  Happy,  happy,  happy 
common  people,  who  cannot  eat  supper !  Would  to  Heaven, 
that  I  might  have  one  boon — perpetual  appetite — a  digestive 
Houri,  which  renewed  its  virginity  every  time  it  was  touched. 
Alas !  for  the  instability  of  human  enjoyment.  But  now  that 
we  have  no  immediate  hope  to  anticipate,  let  us  cultivate  the 
pleasures  of  memory.  What  thought  you  of  the  vcau  a  la 
Danphinc  (  " 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  hesitate  at  giving  my  opinion,  till  I  have 
corrected  my  judgment  by  yours." 

"  Why  then,  I  own  1  was  somewhat  displeased — disap- 
pointed as  it  were — with  that  dish  ;  the  fact  is,  veal  ought  to  be 
killed  in  its  very  first  infancy;  they  suffer  it  to  grow  to  too 
great  an  age.  It  becomes  a  sort  of  hobby-dchoy,  and  possesses 
nothing  of  veal,  but  its  insipidity,  or  of  beef  but  its  toughness." 

"Yes  "  said  I,  "it  is  only  in  their  veal,  that  the  French  sur- 
pass us;  tiieit  other  meats  want  the    ruby  juices    and    elastic 


214  PELHAM ;  OR, 

freshness  of  ours.     Monsieur  L allowed  this  truth  with  a 

candor  worthy  of  his  vast  mind.  Mon  DIai  !  what  claret  ! — 
what  a  body ! — and,  let  me  add,  what  a  soul.,  beneath  it !  Who 
would  drink  wine  like  this .-'  it  it  only  made  to  taste.  It  is  the 
first  love — too  pure  for  the  eagerness  of  enjoyment ;  the  rapture 
it  inspires  is  in  a  touch,  a  kiss.  It  is  a  pity,  my  lord,  that  we 
do  not  serve  perfumes  at  dessert ;  it  is  their  appropriate  place. 
In  confectionary  (delicate  invention  of  Sylphs,)  we  imitate  the 
forms  of  the  rose  and  the  jasmine  ;  why  not  their  odors  too  ? 
What  is  nature  without  its  scents  ? — and  as  long  as  they  are  ab- 
sent from  our  desserts,  it  is  in  vain  that  the  bard  exclaims — 


'  L'observateur  de  la  belle  Nature 


S'extasie  en  voyant  des  fleurs  en  confiture.'  " 

"  It  is  an  exquisite  idea  of  yours,"  said  Guloseton — "  and  the 
next  time  you  dine  here  we  will  have  perfumes.  Dinner  ought 
to  be  a  reunion  of  all  the  senses — 

'  Gladness  to  the  ear,  nerve,  heart,  and  sense.'  " 

There  was  a  momentary  pause.  "  My  lord,"  said  I,  "what  a 
lusty  lusciousness  in  this  pear  !  it  is  like  the  style  of  the  old 
English  poets.  What  think  you  of  the  seeming  good  under- 
standing between  Mr.  Gaskell  and  the  Whigs  ? " 

"  I  trouble  myself  little  about  it,"  replied  Guloseton,  helping 
himself  to  some  preserves — "  politics  disturb  the  digestion," 

"  Well,"  thought  I,  "  I  must  ascertain  some  point  in  this 
man's  character  easier  to  handle  than  his  epicurism ;  all  men 
are  vain  :  let  us  find  out  the  peculiar  vanity  of  mine  host." 

"  The  ultra-Tories,"  said  I,  "  seem  to  think  themselves  exceed^ 
ingly  secure  ;  they  attach  no  importance  to  the  neutral  mem- 
bers ;  it  was  but  the  other  day  Lord told  me  that  he  did 

not  care  a  straw  for  Mr. ,  notwithstanding  he  possessed 

four  votes.     Heard  you  ever  such  arrogance  .''  " 

"  No,  ineeed,"  said  Guloseton,  with  a  lazy  air  of  indifference 
— "  are  you  a  favorer  of  the  olive  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  love  it  not ;  it  hath  an  under  taste  of  sour- 
ness, and  an  upper  of  oil,  which  do  not  make  harmony  to  my 
palate.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  the  Whigs,  on  the  contrary,  pay 
the  utmost  deference  to  their  partisans  ;  and  a  man  of  fortune, 
rank,  and  parliamentary  influence,  might  have  all  the  power, 
without  the  trouble,  of  a  leader." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Guloseton,  drowsily. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  215 

**  I  must  change  my  battery,"  thought  I  ;  but  while  I  was 
meditating  a  new  attack,  the  following  note  was  brought  me  : 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Pelham,  come  out  to  me  :  I  am  waiting 
in  the  street  to  see  you  ;  come  directly,  or  it  will  be  too  late  to 
render  me  the  service  I  would  ask  of  you. 

"  R.  Glanville." 

I  rose  instantly.  "  You  must  excuse  me,  Lord  Guloseton,  I 
am  called  suddenly  away." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  the  gourmand  ;  "  some  tempting  viand 
— -post prandia  CaUirhoe  I " 

"  My  good  lord,"  said  I,  not  heeding  his  insinuation — "  I 
leave  you  with  the  greatest  regret." 

"  And  I  part  from  you  with  the  same ;  it  is  a  real  pleasure  to 
see  such  a  person  at  dinner." 

"  Adieu  !  my  host — '_/£?  vais  vivre  et  manger  en  sage. '  " 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


I  do  defy  him,  and  I  spit  at  him, 

Call  him  a  slanderous  coward  and  a  villain — 

Which  to  maintain  I  will  allow  him  odds. — Shakspeare. 

I  FOUND  Glanville  walking  before  the  door  with  a  rapid  and 
uneven  step. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  "  he  said,  when  he  saw  me  ;  "  I  have  been 
twice  to  Mivart's  to  find  you.  The  second  time,  I  saw  your 
servant,  who  told  me  where  you  were  gone.  I  knew  you  well 
enough  to  be  sure  of  your  kindness." 

Glanville  broke  off  abruptly ;  and  after  a  short  pause,  said, 
with  a  quick,  low,  hurried  tone — "  The  office  I  wish  you  to  take 
upon  yourself  is  this: — go  immediately  to  Sir  John  Tyrrell,  with 
a  challenge  from  me.  Ever  since  I  last  saw  you,  I  have  been 
hunting  out  that  man,  and  in  vain.  He  had  then  left  town. 
He  returned  this  evening,  and  quits  it  to-morrow  :  you  have  no 
time  to  lose." 

"  My  dear  Glanville,"  said  I,  "  I  have  no  wish  to  learn  any 
secret  you  would  conceal  from  me  ;  but  forgive  me  if  I  ask 
some  further  instructions  than  those  you  have  afforded  me. 
Upon  what  plea  am  I  to  call  out  Sir  John  Tyrrell  1  and  what 
answer  am  I  to  give  to  any  excuses  he  may  make  ?  " 

"  I  have  anticipated  your  reply,"  said  Glanville,  with  ill-sub- 


2i6  PELHAM;  OR,  \ 

dued  impatience  ;  "  you  have  only  to  give  this  paper  :  it  will 
prevent  all  discussion.  Read  it ;  I  have  left  it  unsealed  for 
that  purpose." 

I  cast  my  eyes  over  the  lines  Glanville  thrust  into  my  hand  ; 
they  ran  thus  : 

"  The  time  has  at  length  come  for  me  to  demand  the  atone- 
ment so  long  delayed.  The  bearer  of  this,  who  is,  probably, 
known  to  you,  will  arrange,  with  any  person  you  may  appoint, 
the  hour  and  place  of  our  meeting.  He  is  unacquainted  with 
the  grounds  of  my  complaint  against  you,  but  he  is  satisfied  of 
my  honor :  your  second  will,  I  presume,  be  the  same  with  re- 
spect to  yours.  It  is  for  me  only  to  question  the  latter,  and  to 
declare  you  solemnly  to  be  void  alike  of  principle  and  courage, 
a  villain  and  a  poltroon,  Reginald  Glanville." 

*'  You  are  my  earliest  friend,"  said  I,  when  I  had  read  this 
soothing  epistle ;  "  and  I  will  not  flinch  from  the  place  you 
assign  me  :  but  I  tell  you  fairly  and  frankly,  that  I  would  sooner 
cut  olT  my  right  hand  than  suffer  it  to  give  this  note  to  Sir 
John  Tyrrell." 

Glanville  made  no  answer ;  we  walked  on,  till  suddenly 
stopping,  he  said,  "  My  carriage  is  at  the  corner  of  the  street ; 
you  must  go  instantly ;  Tyrrell  lodges  at  the  Clarendon  ;  you 
will  find  me  at  home  on  your  return." 

I  pressed  his  hand,  and  hurried  on  my  mission.  It  was,  I 
own,  one  peculiarly  unwelcome  and  displeasing.  In  the  first 
place,  I  did  not  like  to  be  made  a  party  in  a  business  of  the 
nature  of  which  I  was  so  profoundly  ignorant.  Secondly,  if 
the  affair  terminated  fatally,  the  world  would  not  lightly  con- 
demn me  for  conveying  to  a  gentleman  of  birth  and  fortune,  a 
letter  so  insulting,  and  for  causes  of  which  I  was  so  ignorant. 
Again,  too,  Glanville  was  more  dear  to  me  than  any  one,  judg- 
ing only  of  my  external  character,  would  suppose  ;  and,  con- 
stitutionally indifferent  as  I  am' to  danger  for  myself,  I  trembled 
like  a  woman  at  the  peril  I  was  instrumental  in  bringing  upon 
him.  But  what  weighed  upon  me  far  more  than  any  of  these 
reflections,  was  the  recollection  of  Ellen.  Should  her  brother 
fall  in  an  engagement  in  which  I  was  his  supposed  adviser, 
with  what  success  could  I  hope  for  those  feelings  from  her, 
which,  at  present,  constituted  the  tenderest  and  the  brightest 
of  my  hopes  ?  In  the  midst  of  these  disagreeable  ideas,  the 
carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of  Tyrrell's  hotel. 

The  waiter  said   Sir  John  was  in  the  cofTee-room  ;  thither  I 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  217 

immediately  marched.  Seated  in  the  box  nearest  the  fire  sat 
Tyrrell,  and  two  men  of  that  old-fashioned  r^«/ set,  whose  mem- 
bers indulged  in  debauchery,  as  if  it  were  an  attribute  of  manli- 
ness, and  esteemed  it,  as  long  as  it  were  hearty  and  English, 
rather  a  virtue  to  boast  of,  than  a  vice  to  disown.  Tyrrell  nod- 
ded to  me  familiarly  as  I  approached  him ;  and  I  saw,  by  the 
half-emptied  bottles  before  him,  and  the  flush  of  his  sallow 
countenance,  that  he  had  not  been  sparing  of  his  libations.  I 
whispered  that  1  wished  to  speak  to  him  on  a  subject  of  great 
importance  ;  he  rose  with  much  reluctance,  and,  after  swallow- 
ing a  large  tumbler-full  of  port  wine  to  fortify  him  for  the  task, 
he  led  the  way  to  a  small  room,  where  he  seated  himself,  and 
asked  me,  with  his  usual  mixture  of  bluntness  and  good-breed- 
ing, the  nature  of  my  business.  I  made  him  no  reply  :  I  con- 
tented myself  with  placing  Glanville's  billet  doux  in  his  hand. 
The  room  w'as  dimly  lighted  with  a  single  candle,  and  the 
small  and  capricious  fire,  near  which  the  gambler  was  seated, 
threw  its  upwai-d  light,  by  starts  and  intervals,  over  the  strong 
features  and  deep  lines  of  his  countenance.  It  would  have 
been  a  study  worthy  of  Rembrandt. 

I  drew  my  chair  near  him,  and  half  shading  my  eyes  with  my 
hand,  sat  down  in  silence  to  mark  the  effect  the  letter  would 
produce.  Tyrrell  (I  imagine)  was  a  man  originally  of  hardy 
nerves,  and  had  been  thrown  much  into  the  various  situations  of 
life  where  the  disguise  of  all  outward  emotion  is  easily  and  in- 
sensibly taught ;  but  whether  his  frame  had  been  shattered  by 
his  excesses,  or  that  the  insulting  language  of  the  note  touched 
him  to  the  quick,  he  seemed  perfectly  unable  to  govern  his  feel- 
ings;  the  lines  were  written  hastily,  and  the  light,  as  I  said  be- 
fore, was  faint  and  imperfect,  and  he  was  forced  to  pause  over 
each  word  as  he  proceeded,  so  that  "  the  iron  "  had  full  time  to 
*'  enter  into  his  soul." 

Passion,  however,  developed  itself  less  impetuously  in  him 
than  in  Glanville  :  in  the  latter,  it  was  a  rapid  transition  of  pow- 
erful feelings,  one  angry  wave  dashing  over  another;  it  was  the 
passion  of  a  strong  and  keenly  susceptible  mind,  to  which  every 
sting  was  a  dagger,  and  which  used  the  force  of  a  giant  to  dash 
away  the  insect  which  attacked  it.  In  Tyrrell,  it  was  a  passion 
acting  on  a  callous  mind  but  a  broken  frame — his  hand  trem- 
bled violently — his  voice  faltered — he  could  scarcely  command 
the  muscles  which  enabled  him  to  speak ;  but  tliere  was  no 
fiery  start — no  indignant  burst — no  flashing  forth  of  the  soul : — 
in  him,  it  was  the  body  overcoming  and  paralyzing  the  mind ; 
in  Glanville,  it  was  the  mind  governing  and  convulsing  the  body. 


2iS  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Mr.  Pelham,"  he  said  at  last,  after  a  few  preliminary  efforts 
to  clear  his  voice,  "  this  note  requires  some  consideration.  I 
know  not  at  present  whom  to  appoint  as  my  second — will  you 
call  upon  me  early  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  I,  "  that  my  sole  instructions  were  to  get 
an  immediate  answer  from  you.  Surely  either  of  the  gentlemen 
I  saw  with  you  would  officiate  as  your  second  .-* " 

Tyrrell  made  no  reply  for  some  moments.  He  was  endeav- 
oring to  compose  himself,  and  in  some  measure  he  succeeded. 
He  raised  his  head  with  a  haughty  air  of  defiance,  and  tearing 
the  paper  deliberately,  though  still  with  uncertain  and  trembling 
fingers,  he  stamped  his  foot  upon  the  atoms. 

"Tell  your  principal,"  said  he,  "that  I  retort  upon  him  the 
foul  and  false  words  he  uttered  against  me  ;  that  I  trample  upon 
his  aspersions  with  the  same  scorn  I  feel  towards  himself  ;  and 
that  before  this  hour  to-morrow  I  will  confront  him  to  death  as 
through  life.  For  the  rest,  Mr.  Pelham,  I  cannot  name  my 
second  till  the  morning ;  leave  me  your  address,  and  you  shall 
hear  from  me  before  you  are  stirring.  Have  you  anything  fur- 
ther with  me  1  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  I,  laying  my  card  on  the  table.  "  I  have  ful- 
filled the  most  ungrateful  charge  ever  intrusted  to  me.  I  wish 
you  good  night." 

I  re-entered  the  carriage,  and  drove  to  Glanville's.  I  broke 
into  the  room  rather  abruptly  ;  Glanville  was  leaning  on  the  ta- 
ble, and  gazing  intently  on  a  small  miniature.  A  pistol-case  lay 
beside  him  :  one  of  the  pistols  in  order  for  use,  and  the  other 
still  unarranged ;  the  room  was,  as  usual,  covered  with  books 
and  papers,  and  on  the  costly  cushions  of  the  ottoman  lay  the 
large,  black  dog,  which  I  remembered  well  as  his  companion  of 
yore,  and  which  he  kept  with  him  constantly,  as  the  only  thing 
in  the  world  whose  society  he  could  at  all  times  bear :  the  ani- 
mal lay  curled  up,  with  its  quick,  black  eye  fixed  watchfully 
upon  its  master,  and  directly  I  entered,  it  uttered,  though  with- 
out moving,  a  low,  warning  growl. 

Glanville  looked  up,  and  in  some  confusion  thrust  the  picture 
into  a  drawer  of  the  table,  and  asked  me  my  news.  I  told  him 
word  for  word  what  had  passed.  Granville  set  his  teeth,  and 
clenched  his  hand  firmly ;  and  then,  as  if  his  anger  was  at  once 
appeased,  he  suddenly  changed  the  subject  and  tone  of  our  con- 
versation. He  spoke  with  great  cheerfulness  and  humor  on 
the  various  topics  of  the  day  ;  touched  upon  politics  ;  laughed 
at  Lord  Guloseton,  and  seemed  as  indifferent  and  unconscious 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  219 

of  the  event  of  the  morrow  as  my  peculiar  constitution  would 
have  rendered  myself. 

When  I  rose  to  depart,  for  I  had  too  great  an  interest  in  him 
to  feel  much  for  the  subjects  he  conversed  on,  he  said,  "  I  shall 
write  one  line  to  my  mother,  and  another  to  my  poor  sister  ;  you 
will  deliver  them  if  I  fall,  for  I  have  sworn  that  one  of  us  shall 
not  quit  the  ground  alive.  I  shall  be  all  impatience  to  know  the 
hour  you  will  arrange  with  Tyrrell's  second.  God  bless  you, 
and  farewell  for  the  present." 


CHAPTER  LX. 


Charge,  Chester,  charge! — Marmion. 

Though  this  was  one  of  the  first  mercantile  transactions  of  my  life,  I  had 
no  doubt  about  acquitting  myself  with  reputation. 

Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

The  next  morning  I  was  at  breakfast,  when  a  packet  was 
brought  me  from  Tyrrell  ;  it  contained  a  sealed  letter  to  Glan- 
ville,  and  a  brief  note  to  myself.     The  letter  I  transcribe  : — 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  The  enclosed  letter  to  Sir  Reginald  Glanville  will  explain 
my  reasons  for  not  keeping  my  pledge  :  suffice  it  to  state  to  you, 
that  they  are  such  as  wholly  to  exonerate  me,  and  fairly  to  sat- 
isfy Sir  Reginald.  It  will  be  useless  to  call  upon  me  ;  I  leave 
town  before  you  will  receive  this.  Respect  for  myself  obliges  me 
to  add  that,  although  there  are  circumstances  to  forbid  my  meet- 
ing Sir  Reginald  Glanville,  there  are  none  to  prevent  my  de- 
manding satisfaction  of  any  one,  whoever  he  fnay  h\  who  shall 
deem  himself  authorized  to  call  my  motives  into  question. 

"  I  have  the  honor,  etc., 

"John  Tyrrell." 

It  was  not  till  I  had  thrice  read  this  letter  that  I  could  credit 
its  contents.  From  all  I  had  seen  of  Tyrrell's  character,  I  had 
no  reason  to  suspect  him  to  be  less  courageous  than  the  general- 
ity of  worldly  men.  And  yet,  when  I  considered  the  violent 
language  of  Glanville's  letter,  and  Tyrrell's  apparent  resolution 
the  night  before,  I  scarcely  knew  to  what  more  honorable  motive 
than  the  want  of  courage  to  attribute  his  conduct.  However,  I 
lost  no  time  in  despatching  the  whole  packet  to  Glanville,  with 
a  few  lines  from  myself,  saying  I  would  call  in  an  hour. 


220  PELHAM;  OK, 

When  I  fulfilled  this  promise,  Glanville's  servant  told  me  his 
master  had  gone  out  immediately  on  reading  the  letters  I  had 
sent,  and  had  merely  left  word  that  he  should  Aot  return  home 
the  whole  day.  That  night  he  was  to  have  brought  an  impor- 
tant motion  before  the  House.  A  message  from  him,  pleading 
sudden  and  alarming  illness,  devolved  this  duty  upon  another 
tnember  of  his  party.  Lord  Dawton  was  in  despair  ;  the  motion 
was  lost  by  a  great  majority ;  the  papers,  the  whole  of  that  week, 
were  filled  with  the  most  triumphant  abuse  and  ridicule  of  the 
Whigs.  Never  was  that  unhappy  and  persecuted  party  reduced 
to  so  low  an  ebb  :  never  did  there  seem  a  fainter  probability  of 
their  coming  into  power.  They  appeared  almost  annihilated — a 
mere  notninis  umbra. 

On  the  eighth  day  from  Glanville's  disappearance,  a  sudden 
event  in  the  cabinet  threw  the  whole  country  into  confusion ; 
the  Tories  trembled  to  the  very  soles  of  their  easy  slippers  of 
sinecure  and  office  ;  the  eyes  of  the  public  were  turned  to  the 
Whigs  ;  and  chance  seemed  to  effect  in  an  instant  that  change  in 
their  favor  which  all  their  toil,  trouble,  eloquence,  and  art,  had 
been  unable  for  so  many  years  to  render  even  a  remote  proba- 
bility. 

But  there  was  a  strong  though  secret  party  in  the  state  that 
concealed  under  a  general  name,  worked  only  for  a  private  end, 
and  made  a  progress  in  number  and  respectability,  not  the  less 
sure  for  being  but  little  suspected.  Foremost  among  the  leaders 
of  this  party  was  Lord  Vincent.  Dawton,  who  regarded  them 
with  fear  and  jealousy,  considered  the  struggle  rather  between 
them  and  himself,  than  any  longer  between  himself  and  the  To- 
ries ;  and  strove,  while  it  was  yet  time,  to  reinforce  himself  by  a 
body  of  allies,  which,  should  the  contest  really  take  place,  might 
be  certain  of  giving  him  the  superiority.  The  Marquis  of  Ches- 
ter was  among  the  most  powerful  of  the  neutral  noblemen  :  it 
was  of  the  greatest  importance  to  gain  hin  to  the  cause.  He 
was  a  sturdy,  sporting,  independent  man,  who  lived  chiefly  in 
the  country,  and  turned  his  ambition  rather  towards  promoting 
the  excellence  of  quadrupeds,  than  the  bad  passions  of  men. 
To  this  personage  Lord  Dawton  implored  me  to  be  the  bearer  oi 
a  letter,  and  to  aid,  with  all  the  dexterity  in  my  power,  the  pur- 
pose it  was  intended  to  effect.  It  was  the  most  consequential 
mission  yet  intrusted  to  me,  and  I  felt  eager  to  turn  my  diplo' 
matic  energies  to  so  good  an  account.  Accordingly,  one  bright 
morning  I  wrapped  myself  carefully  in  my  cloak,  placed  my  in' 
valuable  person  safely  in  my  carriage,  and  set  off  to  Chester 
Park,  in  the  county  of  Suffolk. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN,  221 

CHAPTER  LXI. 

Hinc  canibus  blandis  rabies  venit. — Virgil,  Georg. 

I  SHOULD  have  mentioned,  that  the  day  after  I  sent  to  Glan- 
ville  Tyrrell's  communication,  I  received  a  short  and  hurried  note 
from  the  former,  saying,  that  he  had  left  London  in  pursuit  of 
Tyrrell,  and  that  he  would  not  rest  till  he  had  brought  him  to 
account.  In  the  hurry  of  the  public  events  in  which  I  had  been 
of  late  so  actively  engaged,  my  mind  had  not  had  leisure  to  dwell 
much  upon  Glanville ;  but  when  I  was  alone  in  my  carriage, 
that  singular  being,  and  the  mystery  which  attended  him  forced 
themselves  upon  my  reflection,  in  spite  of  all  the  importance  of 
my  mission. 

I  was  leaning  back  in  my  carriage,  at  (I  think)  Ware,  while 
they  were  changing  horses,  when  a  voice,  strongly  associated 
with  my  meditations,  struck  upon  my  ear.  I  looked  out,  and  saw 
Thornton  standing  in  the  yard,  attired  with  all  his  original  smart- 
ness of  boot  and  breeches  :  he  was  employed  in  smoking  a  ci- 
gar, sipping  brandy  and  water,  and  exercising  his  conversational 
talents  in  a  mixture  of  slang  and  jockeyism,  addressed  to  two  or 
three  men  of  his  own  rank  of  life,  and  seemingly  his  compan- 
ions. His  brisk  eye  soon  discovered  me,  and  he  swaggered  to 
the  carriage  door  with  that  ineffable  assurance  of  manner  which 
was  so  peculiarly  his  own. 

"Ah,  ah,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  he,  "going  to  Newmarket,  I  sup- 
pose .''  bound  there  myself — like  to  be  found  among  my  betters. 
Ha,  ha — excuse  a  pun  :  what  odds  on  the  favorite  ?  What,  you 
won't  bet,  Mr.  Pelham?  close  and  sly  at  present ;  wgW,  the  silent 
sow  sups  up  all  the  broth — eh  ! — " 

"I'm  not  going  to  Newmarket,"  I  replied:  "I  never  attend 
races." 

"Indeed!"  answered  Thornton.  "Well,  if  I  was  as  rich  as 
you,  I  would  soon  make  or  spend  a  fortune  on  the  course. 
Seen  Sir  John  Tyrrell .''  No  !  He  is  to  be  there.  Nothing  can 
cure  him  of  gnmbling — what's  bred  in  the  bone,  etc.  Good  day, 
Mr.  Pelham — won't  keep  you  any  longer — sharp  shower  coming 
on.  '  The  devil  will  soon  be  basting  his  wife  with  a  leg  of  mut- 
ton,' as  the  proverb  says  : — servant,  Mr.  Pelham." 

And  at  these  words  my  post-boy  started,  and  released  me  from 
my  bete  noire.  I  spare  my  reader  an  account  of  my  miscellane- 
ous reflections  on  Thornton,  Dawton,  Vincent,  politics,  Glan- 


222  PELHAM;  OR, 

ville,  and  Ellen,  and  will  land  him,  without  further  delay,  ai; 
Cliester  Park. 

I  was  ushered  through  a  large  oak  hall  of  the  reign  of  James 
the  First,  into  a  room  strongly  resembling  the  principal  apart- 
ment of  a  club  ;  two  or  three  round  tables  were  covered  with 
newspapers,  journals,  racing  calendars,  etc.  An  enormous  fire- 
place was  crowded  with  men  of  all  ages,  I  had  almost  said,  of  all 
ranks  ;  but,  however  various  they  might  appear  in  their  mien 
and  attire,  they  were  wholly  of  the  patrician  order.  One  thing, 
however,  in  this  room,  belied  it  likeness  to  the  apartment  of  a 
club,  viz.,  a  number  of  dogs,  that  lay  in  scattered  groups  upon 
the  floor.  Before  the  windows  were  several  horses,  in  body- 
cloths,  led  to  exercise  upon  a  plain  in  the  park,  levelled  as 
smooth  as  a  bowling-green  at  Putney  ;  and,  stationed  at  an  oriel 
window,  in  earnest  attention  of  the  scene  without,  were  two 
men  ;  the  tallest  of  these  was  Lord  Chester.  There  was  a  stiff- 
ness and  inelegance  in  his  address  which  prepossessed  me 
strongly  against  him.  "Zifj"  manieres  que  Von  neglige  comme  de 
petites  choses,  sont  souvent  ce  qui  fait  que  les  hommcs  decident  de  vous 
en  Men  ou  en  mal.''''  * 

I  had  long  since,  when  I  was  at  the  University,  been  intro- 
duced to  Lord  Chester  ;  but  I  had  quite  forgotten  his  person, 
and  he  the  very  circumstance.  I  said  in  a  low  tone,  that  I  was 
the  bearer  of  a  letter  of  importance  from  our  mutual  friend,  Lord 
Dawton,  and  that  I  should  request  the  honor  of  a  private  inter- 
view at  Lord  Chester's  first  convenience. 

His  lordship  bowed,  with  an  odd  mixture  of  the  civility  of  a 
jockey  and  the  hauteur  of  a  head  groom  of  the  stud,  and  led  the 
way  to  a  small  apartment,  which  I  afterwards  discovered  he 
called  his  own.  (I  never  could  make  out,  by  the  way,  why,  in 
England,  the  very  worst  room  in  the  house  is  always  appropri- 
ated to  the  master  of  it,  and  dignified  by  the  appellation  of 
"the  gentleman's  own.")  I  gave  the  Newmarket  grandee  the 
letter  intended  for  him,  and  quietly  seating  myself,  awaited  the 
result. 

He  read  it  through  slowly  and  silently,  and  then,  taking  out  a 
huge  pocket-book,  full  of  racing  bets,  horses'  ages,  jockey  opin- 
ions, and  such  like  memoranda,  he  placed  it  with  much  solemnity 
among  this  dignified  company,  and  said,  with  a  cold,  but  would- 
be  courteous  air,  "  My  friend,  Lord  Uawton,  says  you  are  entirely 
in  his  confidence,  Mr.  Pelham.  I  hope  you  will  honor  me  with 
your  company  at  Chester   Park  for   two  or  three  days,  during 

*  "The  manners  which  one  neglects  as  trifles,  are  often  precisely  that  by  which  men 
decide  on  you  favorably  or  the  reverse." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  223 

which  time  I  shall  have  leisure  to  reply  to  Lord  Dawton's  letter. 
Will  you  take  some  refreshment  ?  " 

I  answered  the  first  sentence  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  latter  in 
the  negative  ;  and  Lord  Chester,  thinking  it  perfectly  unnecessary 
to  trouble  himself  with  any  further  questions  or  remarks,  which 
the  whole  jockey  club  might  not  hear,  took  me  back  into  the 
room  we  had  quitted,  and  left  me  to  find,  or  make,  whatever 
acquaintance  I  could.  Pampered  and  spoiled  as  I  was  in  the 
most  difficult  circles  of  London,  I  was  beyond  measure  indig- 
nant at  the  cavalier  demeanor  of  this  rustic  thane,  who,  despite 
his  marquisate  and  his  acres,  was  not  less  below  me  in  the  aristoc- 
racy of  ancient  birth,  than  in  that  of  cultivated  intellect.  I 
looked  round  the  room,  and  did  not  recognize  a  being  of  my 
acquaintance  :  I  seemed  literally  thrown  into  a  new  world  :  the 
very  language  in  which  the  conversation  was  held,  sounded  strange 
to  my  ear.  I  had  always  transgressed  my  general  rule  of  know- 
ing all  men  in  all  grades,  in  the  single  respect  of  sporting 
(haractcrs :  they  were  a  species  of  bipeds  that  I  would  never 
recognize  as  belonging  to  the  human  race.  Alas !  I  now  found 
the  bitter  effects  of  not  following  my  usual  maxims.  It  is  a 
dangerous  thing  to  encourage  too  great  a  disdain  of  one's 
inferiors  :  pride  must  have  a  fall. 

After  I  had  been  a  whole  quarter  of  an  hour  in  this  strange 
place,  my  better  genius  came  to  my  aid.  Since  I  found  no 
society  among  the  two-legged  brutes,  I  turned  to  the  quadrupeds. 
At  one  corner  of  the  room  lay  a  black  terrier  of  the  true 
English  breed  ;  at  another  was  a  short,  sturdy,  wiry  one,  of  the 
Scotch.  I  soon  formed  a  friendship  with  each  of  these  canine 
Felei,  (little  bodies  with  great  souls),  and  then  by  degrees  allur- 
ing them  from  their  retreat  to  the  centre  of  the  room,  I  fairly 
endeavored  to  set  them  by  the  ears.  Thanks  to  the  national 
antipathy,  I  succeeded  to  my  heart's  content.  The  contest 
soon  aroused  the  other  individuals  of  the  genus — up  the}- started 
from  their  repose,  like  Roderic  Dliu's  merry  men,  and  inconti- 
nently flocked  to  the  scene  of  battle.  The  example  became 
contagious.  In  a  very  few  moments,  the  whole  room  was  a  scene 
of  uproarious  confusion  ;  the  beasts  yelled,  and  bit,  and  struggled 
with  the  most  delectable  ferocity.  To  add  to  the  effect,  the 
various  owners  of  the  dogs  crowded  round — some  to  stimulate, 
others  to  appease  the  fury  of  the  combatants.  At  length,  the 
confiict  was  assuaged.  By  dint  of  blows,  and  kicks,  and  remon- 
strances from  tlieir  dignified  proprietors,  the  dogs  slowly  with- 
drew, one  with  the  loss  of  half  an  ear,  another  with  a  month 
increased  by  one-half  of  its  natural   dimexisions,   and.   in  slv.iri. 


224  PELHAM;  OR, 

every  one  of  the  combatants  with  some  token  of  the  severity  of 
the  conflict.  I  did  not  wait  for  the  thunder-storm  I  foresaw  in 
the  inquiry  as  to  the  origin  of  the  war  :  I  rose  with  a  nonchalant 
yawn  of  ennui,  marched  out  of  the  apartment,  called  a  servant, 
demanded  my  own  room,  repaired  to  it,  and  immersed  the  inter- 
nal faculties  of  my  head  in  Mignet's  History  of  the  Revolution, 
while  Bedos  busied  himself  in  its  outward  embellishment. 


CHAPTER  LXn. 


-Noster  ludos,  spectaverat  una, 


Luserat  in  campo,  Fortunae  filius,  omnes. — HoR. 

I  DID  not  leave  my  room  till  the  first  dinner-bell  had  ceased 
a  sufficient  time  to  allow  me  the  pleasing  hope  that  I  should 
have  but  a  few  moments  to  wait  in  the  drawing-room,  previously 
to  the  grand  epoch  and  ceremony  of  an  European  day.  The 
manner  most  natural  to  me,  is  one  rather  open  and  easy ;  but  I 
pique  myself  peculiarly  upon  a  certain  (though  occasional)  air 
which  keeps  impertinence  aloof.  This  day  I  assumed  a  double 
quantum  of  dignity,  in  entering  a  room  which  I  well  knew  would 
not  be  filled  with  my  admirers;  there  were  a  few  women  around 
Lady  Chester,  and,  as  I  always  feel  reassured  by  a  sight  of  the 
dear  sex,  I  walked  towards  them. 

Judge  of  my  delight,  when  I  discovered,  amongst  the  group, 
Lady  Harriet  Garrett.  It  is  true  that  I  had  no  particular  pre- 
dilection for  that  lady  ;  but  the  sight  of  a  negress  I  had  seen 
before,  I  should  have  hailed  with  rapture  in  so  desolate  and 
inhospitable  a  place.  If  my  pleasure  at  seeing  Lady  Harriet 
was  great,  her's  seemed  equally  so  at  receiving  my  salutation. 
She  asked  me  if  I  knew  Lady  Chester — and  on  my  negative 
reply,  immediately  introduced  me  to  that  personage.  I  now 
found  myself  quite  at  home  ;  my  spirits  rose,  and  I  exerted 
every  nerve  to  be  as  charming  as  possible. — In  youth,  to  en- 
deavor is  to  succeed. 

I  gave  a  most  animated  account  of  the  canine  battle,  inter- 
spersed with  various  sarcasms  on  the  owners  of  the  combatants, 
which  were  by  no  means  ill-received  either  by  the  marchioness 
or  her  companions ;  and,  in  fact,  when  the  dinner  was  announced, 
they  all  rose  in  a  mirth  sufficiently  unrestrained  to  be  anything 
but  patrician  :  for  my  part,  I  offered  my  arm  to  Lady  Harriet, 
and  paid  her  as  many  compliments  on  crossing  the  suite  that 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  225 

led  to  the  dining-room,  as  would  have  turned  a  much  wiser  head 
than  her  ladyship's. 

The  dinner  went  off  agreeably  enough,  as  long  as  the  women 
stayed,  but  the  moment  they  quitted  the  room,  I  experienced 
exactly  the  same  feeling  known  unto  a  mother's  darling,  left 
for  the  first  time  at  that  strange,  cold,  comfortless  place — 
ycleped  a  school. 

I  was  not,  however,  in  a  mood  to  suffer  my  flowers  of  oratory 
to  blush  unseen.  Besides,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  I 
should  make  a  better  impression  upon  my  host.  I  leant, 
therefore,  across  the  table,  and  listened  eagerly  to  the  various 
conversations  afloat  :  at  last  I  perceived  on  the  opposite  side 
Sir  Lionel  Garret,  a  personage  whom  I  had  not  before  even  in- 
quired after,  or  thought  of.  He  was  busily  and  noisily  em- 
ployed in  discussing  the  gamelaws.  Thank  Heaven,  thought  I, 
I  shall  be  on  firm  ground  there.  The  general  interest  of  the 
subject,  and  the  loudness  with  which  it  was  debated,  soon  drew 
all  the  scattered  conversation  into  one  focus. 

"  What ! ''  said  Sir  Lionel,  in  a  high  voice,  to  a  modest 
shrinking  youth,  probably  from  Cambridge,  who  had  supported 
the  liberal  side  of  the  question — "  what !  are  our  interests  to  be 
never  consulted  ?  Are  we  to  have  our  only  amusement  taken 
away  from  us  ?  What  do  you  imagine  brings  country  gentlemen 
to  their  seats  ?  Do  you  not  know,  sir,  the  vast  importance  our 
residence  at  our  country  houses  is  to  the  nation  ?  Destroy  the 
game-laws,  and  you  destroy  our  very  existence  as  a  people  !  " 

"  Now,"  thought  I,  "it  is  my  time."  "Sir  Lionel,"  said  I, 
speaking  almost  from  one  end  of  the  table  to  the  other,  "  I 
perfectly  agree  with  your  sentiments  ;  I  am  entirely  of  opinion, 
first,  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the  nation 
that  game  should  be  preserved ;  secondly,  that  if  you  take  away 
game  you  take  country  gentlemen  :  no  two  propositions  can  be 
clearer  than  these  ;  but  I  do  differ  from  you  with  respect  to  the 
intended  alterations.  Let  us  put  wholly  out  the  question,  the 
interests  of  the  poor  people,  or  of  society  at  large  :  those  are 
minor  matters,  not  worthy  of  a  moment's  consideration  ;  let  us 
only  see  how  far  our  interests  as  sportsmen  will  be  affected.  I 
think  by  a  very  few  words  I  can  clearly  prove  to  you,  that  the 
proposed  alterations  will  make  us  much  better  off  than  we  are 
at  present." 

1  then  entered  shortly,  yet  fully  enough,  into  the  nature  of 

the  laws  as  they  now  stood,  and  as  they  were  intended  to  be 

changed.     I  first  spoke  of  the  two  great  disadvantages  of  the 

present  system  to  country  gentlemen  ;  viz.,  in  the  number  of 

ic 


226  PELHAM;  OR, 

poachers,  and  the  expense  of  preserving.  Observing  that  I  was 
generally  and  attentively  listened  to,  I  dwelt  upon  these  two 
points  with  much  pathetic  energy  ;  and  having  paused  till  I  had 
got  Sir  Lionel  and  one  or  two  of  his  supporters  to  confess  that 
it  would  be  highly  desirable  that  these  defects  should  if  possible, 
be  remedied,  I  proceeded  to  show  how,  and  in  what  manner  it 
was  possible.  I  argued,  that  to  effect  this  possibility  was  the 
exact  object  of  the  alterations  suggested  ;  1  anticipated  the  ob- 
jections ;  I  answered  them  in  the  form  of  propositions  as  clearly 
and  concisely  stated  as  possible  ;  and  as  I  spoke  with  great 
civility  and  conciliation,  and  put  aside  every  appearance  of  care 
for  any  human  being  in  the  world  who  was  not  possessed  of  a 
qualification,  I  perceived  at  the  conclusion  of  my  harangue  that 
I  had  made  a  very  favorable  impression.  That  evening  com- 
pleted my  triumph  :  for  Lady  Chester  and  Lady  Harriet  made 
so  good  a  story  of  my  adventure  with  the  dogs,  that  the  matter 
passed  off  as  a  famous  joke,  and  I  was  soon  considered  by  the 
whole  knot  as  a  devilish  amusing,  good-natured,  sensible  fellow. 
So  true  is  it  that  there  is  no  situation  which  a  little  tact  cannot 
turn  to  our  own  account :  manage  yourself  well,  and  you  may 
manage  all  the  world. 

As  for  Lord  Chester,  I  soon  won  his  heart  by  a  few  feats  of 
horsemanship,  and  a  few  extempore  inventions  respecting  the 
sagacity  of  dogs.  Three  days  after  my  arrival,  we  became  insep- 
arable ;  and  I  made  such  good  use  of  my  time,  that  in  two  more, 
he  spoke  to  me  of  his  friendship  for  Dawton,  and  his  wish  for  a 
dukedom.  These  motives  it  was  easy  enough  to  unite,  and  at 
last  he  promised  me  that  his  answer  to  my  principal  should  be 
as  acquiescent  as  I  could  desire  ;  the  morning  after  this  promise 
commenced  the  great  day  at  Newmarket. 

Our  whole  party  were  of  course  bound  to  the  race-ground,  and 
with  great  reluctance  I  was  pressed  into  the  service.  We  were 
not  many  miles  distant  from  the  course,  and  Lord  Chester 
mounted  me  on  one  of  his  horses.  Our  shortest  way  lay  through 
rather  an  intricate  series  of  cross  roads :  and  as  I  was  very  lit- 
tle interested  in  the  conversation  of  companions,  I  paid  more 
attention  to  the  scenery  we  passed,  than  is  my  customary  wont : 
for  I  study  Nature  rather  in  men  than  fields,  and  find  no  land- 
scape afford  such  variety  to  the  eye,  and  subject  to  the  contem- 
plation, as  the  inequalities  of  the  human  heart. 

But  there  were  to  be  fearful  circumstances  hereafter,  to  stamp 
forcibly  upon  my  remembrance  some  traces  of  the  scenery  which 
now  courted  and  arrested  my  view.  The  chief  characteristics  of 
the  country  were  broad,  dreary  plains,  diversified  at  times  by  dart' 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  227 

plantations  of  fir  and  larch  ;  the  road  was  rough  and  ston}^,  and 
here  and  there  a  melancholy  rivulet,  swelled  by  the  first  rains  of 
spring,  crossed  our  path,  and  lost  itself  in  the  rank  weeds  of 
some  inhospitable  marsh. 

About  six  miles  from  Chester  Park,  to  the  left  of  the  road, 
stood  an  old  house  with  a  new  face ;  the  brown,  time-honored 
bricks  which  composed  the  fabric,  were  strongly  contrasted  by 
large  Venetian  windows  newly  inserted  in  frames  of  most  osten- 
tatious white.  A  smart,  green  veranda,  scarcely  finished,  ran 
along  the  low  portico,  and  formed  the  termination  to  two  thin 
rows  of  meagre  and  dwarfish  sycamores,  which  did  duty  for  an 
avenue,  and  were  bounded  on  the  road  side  by  a  spruce  white 
gate,  and  a  sprucer  lodge,  so  moderate  in  its  dimensions,  that  it 
would  scarcely  have  boiled  a  turnip  ! — if  a  rat  had  got  into  it,  he 
might  have  run  away  with  it !  The  ground  was  dug  in  various 
places,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  further  improvements,  and  here  and 
there  a  sickly  little  tree  was  carefully  hurled  round,  and  seemed 
pining  its  puny  heart  out  at  the  confinement. 

In  spite  of  all  these  well-judged  and  well-thriving  graces  of 
art,  there  was  such  a  comfortless  and  desolate  appearance  about 
the  place,  that  it  quite  froze  one  to  look  at  it ;  to  be  sure,  a  damp 
marsh  on  one  side,  and  the  skeleton  rafters  and  beams  of  an 
old  stable  on  the  other,  backed  by  a  few  dull  and  sulky-looking 
fir-trees,  might  in  some  measure  create,  or  at  least  considerably 
add  to,  the  indescribable  cheerfulness  of  the  tout  etisemblc.  \\niile 
I  was  curiously  surveying  the  various  parts  of  this  northern  "Z>/- 
lices,'"  and  marvelling  at  the  choice  of  two  crows  who  were  slowly 
walking  over  the  unwholesome  ground,  instead  of  making  all 
possible  use  of  the  black  wings  Avith  which  Providence  had  gifted 
them,  I  perceived  two  men  on  horseback  wind  round  from  the 
back  part  of  the  building,  and  proceed  in  a  brisk  trot  down  the 
avenue.  We  had  not  advanced  many  paces  before  they  over- 
took us  ;  the  foremost  of  ihem  turned  round  as  he  passed  me ; 
and  pulling  up  his  horse  abruptly,  discovered  to  my  dismayed 
view  the  features  of  Mr.  Thornton.  Nothing  abashed  by  the 
slightness  of  my  bow,  or  the  grave  stares  of  my  lordly  compan- 
ions, who  never  forgot  the  dignity  of  my  birth,  in  spite  of  the 
vulgarity  of  their  tastes,  Thornton  instantly  and  familiarly  ac- 
costed me. 

"Told  you  so,  Mr.  Pelham — silent  sow,  etc. — Sure  I  should 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  though  you  kept  it  so  snug. 
Well,  will  you  bet  now  ?  No ! — Ah,  you're  a  sly  one.  Stay- 
ing here  at  that  niee-Iookini!;  house — belongs  to  Dawson,  an  old 
friend  of  mine — shall  be  happy  to  introduce  you  1  " 


228  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  abruptly,  "  yon  are  too  good.  Permit  me  to  re- 
quest that  you  will  rejoin  your  friend  Mr.  Dawson," 

"  Oh,"  said  the  imperturbable  Thornton,  "  it  does  not  signify  ; 
he  won't  be  affronted  at  my  lagging  a  little.  However,"  (and 
here  he  caught  my  eye,  which  was  assuming  a  sternness  that 
perhaps  little  pleased  him,)  "  however,  as  it  gets  late,  and  my 
mare  is  none  of  the  best,  I'll  wish  you  good  morning."  With 
these  words  Thornton  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  trotted  off. 

"  Who  the  devil  have  you  got  there,  Pelham  ? "  said  Lord 
Chester. 

"  A  person,"  said  I,  "  who  picked  me  up  at  Paris,  and  insists 
on  the  right  of  '  treasure  trove  '  to  claim  me  in  England.  But 
will  you  let  me  ask,  in  my  turn,  whom  that  cheerful  mansion  we 
have  just  left,  belongs  to  .-•  " 

"To  a  Mr.  Dawson,  whose  father  was  a  gentleman  farmer  who 
bred  horses,  a  very  respectable  person, — fen- 1  made  one  or  two  ex- 
cellent bargains  with  him.  The  son  was  always  on  the  turf  and 
contracted  the  worst  of  its  habits.  He  bears  buta  very  indiffer- 
ent character,  and  will  probably  become  a  complete  blackleg. 
He  married,  a  short  time  since,  a  woman  of  some  fortune,  and 
I  suppose  it  is  her  taste  which  has  so  altered  and  modernized 
his  house.  Come,  gentlemen,  we  are  on  even  ground — shall 
we  trot  ? " 

We  proceeded  but  a  few  yards  before  we  were  again  stopped 
by  a  precipitous  ascent,  and  as  Lord  Chester  was  then  earnest- 
ly engaged  in  praising  his  horse  to  one  of  the  cavalcade,  I  had 
time  to  remark  the  spot.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  we  were  about 
slowly  to  ascend,  was  a  broad,  unenclosed  patch  of  waste  land ; 
a  heron,  flapping  its  enormous  wings  as  it  rose,  directed  my  at- 
tention to  a  pool  overgrown  with  rushes,  and  half-sheltered  on 
one  side  by  a  decayed  tree,  which,  if  one  might  judge  from  the 
breadth  and  hollowness  of  its  trunk,  had  been  a  refuge  to  the 
wild  bird,  and  a  shelter  to  the  wild  cattle,  at  a  time  when  such 
were  the  only  intruders  upon  its  hospitality  ;  and  when  the  coun- 
try, for  miles  and  leagues  round,  was  honored  by  as  little  of 
man's  care  and  cultivation  as  was  at  present  the  rank  waste 
which  still  nourished  the  gnarled  and  venerable  roots  of  that 
single  tree.  There  was  something  remarkably  singular  and  gro- 
tesque in  the  shape  and  sinuosity  of  its  naked  and  spectral 
branches ;  two  of  exceeding  length  stretched  themselves  forth, 
in  the  very  semblance  of  arms  held  out  in  the  attitude  of  sup- 
plication ;  and  the  bend  of  the  trunk  over  the  desolate  pond,  the 
form  of  the  hoary  and  blasted  summit,  and  the  hollow  trunk  half 
riven  asunder  in  the  shape  of  limbs,  seemed  to  favor  the  gigan- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  229 

tic  deception.  You  miglit  have  imagined  it  an  antediluvian 
transformation,  or  a  daughter  of  the  Titan  race,  preserving,  in 
her  metamorphosis,  her  attitude  of  entreaty  to  the  merciless 
Olympian. 

This  was  the  only  tree  visible ;  for  a  turn  of  the  road,  and  the 
unevenness  of  the  ground,  completely  veiled  the  house  we  had 
passed,  and  the  few  low  firs  and  sycamores  which  made  its  only 
plantations.  The  sullen  pool — its  ghost-like  guardian — the 
dreary  heath  around,  the  rude  features  of  the  country  beyond, 
and  the  apparent  absence  of  all  human  habitation,  conspired  to 
make  a  scene  of  the  most  dispiriting  and  striking  desolation.  I 
know  not  how  to  account  for  it,  but,  as  I  gazed  around  in  silence, 
the  whole  place  appeared  to  grow  over  my  mind,  as  one  which  I 
had  seen,  though  dimly  and  drearily,  as  in  a  dream,  before  ;  and 
a  nameless  and  unaccountable  presentiment  of  fear  and  evil 
sank  like  ice  into  my  heart.  We  ascended  the  hill,  and,  the  rest 
of  the  road  being  of  a  kind  better  adapted  to  expedition,  we 
mended  our  pace  and  soon  arrived  at  the  goal  of  our  journey. 

The  race-ground  had  its  customary  complement  of  knaves  and 
fools — the  dupers  and  the  duped.  Poor  Lady  Chester,  who  had 
proceeded  to  the  ground  by  the  high  road  (for  the  way  we  had 
chosen  was  inaccessible  to  those  who  ride  in  chariots,  and  whose 
charioteers  are  set  up  in  high  places,)  was  driving  to  and  fro, 
the  very  picture  of  cold  and  discomfort ;  and  the  few  solitary 
carriages  which  honored  the  course,  looked  as  miserable  as  if 
they  were  witnessing  the  funeral  of  their  owners'  persons,  rather 
than  the  peril  of  their  characters  and  purses. 

As  we  rode  along  the  betting-post.  Sir  John  Tyrrell  passed  us  : 
Lord  Chester  accosted  him  familiarly,  and  the  baronet  joined  us. 
He  had  been  a  votary  of  the  turf  in  his  younger  days,  and  he 
still  preserved  all  his  ancient  predilection  in  its  favor. 

It  seemed  that  Chester  had  not  met  him  for  many  years,  and 
after  a  short  and  characteristic  conversation  of  "  God  bless  me, 
how  long  since  I  saw  you  ! — good  horse  you're  on  ; — look  thin  ; 
— admirable  condition  ; — what  have  you  been  doing  ? — grand 
action; — a'n't  we  behindhand? — famous  fore-hand; — recollect 
old  Queensbury  i* — hot  in  the  mouth  ; — gone  to  the  devil ; — 
what  are  the  odds  ?  "  Lord  Chester  asked  Tyrrell  to  go  home 
with  us.     The  invitation  was  readily  accepted. 

"With  impotence  of  will 
We  wheel,  thmiph  ghastly  shadows  interpose 
Round  us,  and  r(jund  each  olher."  * 

*  Shelley. 


230  PELHAM;  OR, 

Now,  then,  arose  the  noise,  the  clatter,  the  swearing,  the 
lying,  the  perjury,  the  cheating,  the  crowd,  the  bustle,  the  hurry, 
the  rush,  the  heat,  the  ardor,  the  impatience,  the  hope,  the  ter- 
ror, the  rapture,  the  agony  of  the  race.  The  instant  the  first 
heat  was  over,  one  asked  me  one  thing,  one  bellowed  another  ; 
I  fled  to  Lord  Chester  :  he  did  not  heed  me.  I  took  refuge 
with  the  marchioness  ;  she  was  as  sullen  as  an  east  wind  could 
make  her.  Lady  Harriet  would  talk  of  nothing  but  the  horses  : 
Sir  Lionel  would  not  talk  at  all.  I  was  in  the  lowest  pit  of 
despondency,  and  the  devils  that  kept  me  there  were  as  blue  as 
Lady  Chester's  nose.  Silent,  sad,  sorrowful,  and  sulky,  I  rode 
away  from  the  crowd,  and  moralized  on  its  vicious  propensities. 
One  grows  marvellously  honest  when  the  species  of  cheating 
before  us  is  not  suited  to  one's  self.  Fortunatelv,  my  better 
angel  reminded  me,  that  about  the  distance  of  three  miles  from 
the  course  lived  an  old  college  friend,  blessed,  since  we  had 
met,  with  a  parsonage  and  a  wife.  I  knew  his  tastes  too  well 
to  imagine  that  any  allurement  of  an  equestrian  nature  could 
have  seduced  him  from  the  ease  of  his  library  and  the  dignity 
of  his  books  ;  and  hoping,  therefore,  that  I  should  find  him  at 
home,  turned  my  horse's  head  in  an  opposite  direction,  and, 
rejoiced  at  the  idea  of  my  escape,  bade  adieu  to  the  course. 

As  I  cantered  across  the  far  end  of  the  heath,  my  horse 
started  from  an  object  upon  the  ground  ;  it  was  a  man  wrapped 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  long  horseman's  cloak  and  so  well 
guarded  as  to  the  face,  from  the  raw  inclemency  of  the  day, 
that  I  could  not  catch  even  a  glimpse  of  the  features,  through 
the  hat  and  neck-shawl  which  concealed  them.  The  head  was 
turned,  with  apparent  anxiety,  toward  the  distant  throng ;  and 
imagining  the  man  belonging  to  the  lower  orders,  with  whom  I 
am  always  familiar,  I  addressed  to  him,  en  passant,  some  trifling 
remark  on  the  event  of  the  race.  He  made  no  answer.  There 
was  something  about  him  which  induced  me  to  look  back  sev- 
eral moments  after  I  had  left  him  behind.  He  had  not  moved 
an  inch.  There  is  such  a  certain  uncomfortableness  always 
occasioned  to  the  mind  by  stillness  and  mystery  united,  that 
even  the  disguising  garb,  and  motionless  silence  of  the  man, 
innocent  as  I  thought  they  must  have  been,  impressed  them- 
selves disagreeably  on  my  meditations  as  I  rode  briskly  on. 

It  is  my  maxim  never  to  be  unpleasantly  employed,  even  in 
thought,  if  I  can  help  it  ;  accordingly  I  changed  the  course  of 
my  reflection,  and  amused  myself  with  wondering  how  matri- 
mony and  clerical  dignity  sat  on  the  indolent  shoulders  of  my 
old  acquaintance. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  231 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

And  as  for  me,  tho'  I  can  but  lite 

On  bookes  for  me  to  read,  I  me  delight. 

And  to  hem  give  I  faith  and  full  credence, 

And  in  mine  heart  have  hem  in  reverence, 

So  heartily  that  there  is  game  none, 

That  fro'  my  bookes  maketh  me  to  gone. — Chaucer. 

Christopher  Clutterbuck  was  a  common  individual  of  a 
common  order,  but  little  known  in  this  busy  and  toiling  world. 
I  cannot  flatter  myself  that  I  am  about  to  present  to  your  notice 
that  rara  avis,  a  new  character — yet  there  is  something  interest- 
ing, and  even  unhackneyed,  in  the  retired  and  simple  class  to 
which  he  belongs  :  and  before  I  proceed  to  a  darker  period  of 
my  memoirs,  I  feel  a  calm  and  tranquillizing  pleasure  in  the  rest 
which  a  brief  and  imperfect  delineation  of  my  college  compan- 
ion affords  me.  My  friend  came  up  to  the  University  with  the 
learning  which  one  about  to  quit  the  world  might,  with  credit, 
have  boasted  of  possessing,  and  the  simplicity  which  one  about 
to  enter  it  would  have  been  ashamed  to  confess.  Quiet  and  shy, 
in  his  habits  and  his  manners,  he  was  never  seen  out  of  the 
precincts  of  his  apartments,  except  in  obedience  to  the  stated 
calls  of  dinner,  lectures,  and  chapel.  Then  his  small  and 
stooping  form  might  be  marked,  crossing  the  quadrangle  with  a 
hurried  step,  and  cautiously  avoiding  the  smallest  blade  of  the 
barren  grass-plots,  which  are  forbidden  ground  to  the  feet  of  all 
the  lower  orders  of  the  collegiate  oligarchy.  Many  were  the 
smiles  and  the  jeers,  from  the  worse  natured  and  better 
appointed  students,  who  loitered  idly  along  the  court,  at  the 
rude  garb  and  saturnine  appearance  of  the  humble  under- 
graduate ;  and  the  calm  countenance  of  the  grave,  but  amiable 
man,  who  then  bore  the  honor  and  onus  of  mathematical 
lecturer  at  our  college,  would  soften  into  a  glance  of  mingled 
approbation  and  pity,  as  he  noted  the  eagerness  which  spoke 
from  the  wan  cheek  and  emaciated  frame  of  the  ablest  of  his 
pupils,  hurrying — after  each  legitimate  interruption — to  the  en- 
joyment of  the  crabbed  characters  and  worm-worn  volumes, 
which  contained  for  him  all  the  seductions  of  pleasure,  and  all 
the  temptations  of  youth. 

It  is  a  melancholy  thing,  which  none  but  those  educated  at  a 
college  can  understand,  to  see  the  debilitated  frames  of  the 
aspirants  for  academical  honors  ;  to  mark  the  prime — the  ver- 
dure— the  glory — the  life — of  life  wasted  irrevocably  away  in  a 


-3=  PELHAM;  OR, 

labor  ineptianim,  which  brings  no  harvest  either  to  others  or 
themselves.  For  the  poet,  the  philosopher,  the  man  of  science, 
we  can  appreciate  the  recompense  if  we  commiserate  the  sacri- 
fice ;  from  the  darkness  of  their  retreat  there  goes  a  light — from 
the  silence  of  their  studies  there  issues  a  voice, — to  illumine  or 
convince.  We  can  imagine  them  looking  from  their  privations 
to  the  far  visions  of  the  future,  and  hugging  to  their  hearts,  in 
the  strength  of  no  unnatural  vanity,  the  reward  which  their 
labors  are  certain  hereafter  to  obtain.  To  those  who  can  an- 
ticipate the  vast  dominions  of  immortality  among  men,  what 
boots  the  sterility  of  cabined  and  petty  present  i  But  the  mere 
man  of  languages  and  learning — the  machine  of  a  memory 
heavily  but  unprofitably  employed — the  Columbus  wasting  at 
the  galley  oar  the  energies  which  should  have  discovered  a 
world — for  him  there  is  no  day-dream  of  the  future,  no  grasp  at 
the  immortality  of  fame.  Beyond  the  walls  of  his  narrow  room 
he  knows  no  object ;  beyond  the  elucidation  of  a  dead  tongue 
he  indulges  no  ambition  ;  his  life  is  one  long  school-day  of  lexi- 
cons and  grammars — a  Fabric  of  Ice,  cautiously  excluded  from 
a  single  sunbeam — elaborately  useless,  ingeniously  unprofitable; 
and  leaving,  at  the  moment  it  melts  away,  not  a  single  trace  of 
the  space  it  occupied,  or  the  labor  it  cost. 

At  the  time  I  went  to  the  University,  my  poor  collegian  had 
attained  all  the  honors  his  employment  could  ever  procure  him. 
Yit  had  been  a  Pitt  scholar ;  he  was  a  senior  wrangler,  and  a  Fellow 
of  his  college.  It  often  happened  that  I  found  myself  next  to 
him  at  dinner,  and  I  was  struck  by  his  abstinence,  and  pleased 
with  his  modesty,  despite  the  gaucherie  of  his  manner,  and  the 
fashion  of  his  garb.  By  degrees  I  insinuated  myself  into  his 
acquaintance ;  and  as  I  had  always  some  love  of  scholastic 
lore,  I. took  frequent  opportunities  of  conversing  with  him  upon 
Horace,  and  consulting  him  upon  Lucian. 

Many  a  dim  twilight  have  we  sat  together,  reviving  each 
other's  recollection,  and  occasionally  relaxing  into  the  grave 
amusement  of  capping  verses.  Then,  if  by  any  chance  my  inge- 
nuity or  memory  enabled  me  to  puzzle  my  companion,  his  good 
temper  would  lose  itself  in  a  quaint  pettishness,  or  he  would 
hurl  against  me  some  line  of  Aristophanes,  and  ask  me,  with  a 
raised  voice,  and  arched  brow,  to  give  him  a  fitting  answer  to 
that.  But  if,  as  was  much  more  frequently  the  case,  he  fairly 
ran  me  down  into  a  pause  and  confession  of  inability,  he  would 
rub  his  hands  with  a  strange  chuckle,  and  offer  me,  in  the  bounteous- 
ness  of  his  heart,  to  read  aloud  a  Greek  Ode  of  his  own,  while  he 
treated  me  "  to  a  dish  of  tea."     There   was  much  in  the  sfood 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  233 

man's  innocence,  and  guilelessness  of  soul,  which  made  me  love 
him,  and  I  did  not  rest  till  I  had  procured  him,  before  I  left  the 
University,  the  living  which  he  now  held.  Since  then,  he  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  a  neighboring  clergyman,  an  event  of  which 
he  had  duly  informed  me ;  but,  though  this  great  step  in  the  life 
of  "  a  reading  man  "  had  not  taken  place  many  months  since,  I 
had  completely,  after  a  hearty  wish  for  his  domestic  happiness, 
consigned  it  to  a  dormant  place  in  my  recollection. 

The  house  which  I  now  began  to  approach  was  small,  but 
comfortable ;  perhaps  there  was  something  melancholy  in  the 
old-fashioned  hedges,  cut  and  trimmed  with  mathematical  pre- 
cision, which  surrounded  the  glebe,  as  well  as  in  the  heavy  archi- 
tecture and  dingy  bricks  of  the  reverend  recluse's  habitation. 
To  make  amends  for  this,  there  was  also  something  peculiarly 
still  and  placid  about  the  appearance  of  the  house,  which  must 
have  suited  well  the  tastes  and  habits  of  the  owner.  A  small, 
formal  lawn  was  adorned  with  a  square  fish-pond,  bricked  round, 
and  covered  with  the  green  weepings  of  four  willows,  which 
drooped  over  it  from  their  station  at  each  corner.  At  the  oppo- 
site side  of  their  Pierian  reservoir,  was  a  hermitage,  or  arbor  of 
laurels,  shaped  in  the  stiff  rusticity  of  the  Dutch  school,  in  the 
prevalence  of  which  it  was  probably  planted  ;  behind  this  arbor, 
the  ground,  after  a  slight  railing,  terminated  in  an  orchard. 

The  sound  I  elicited  from  the  gate  bell  seemed  to  ring  through 
that  retired  place  with  singular  shrillness  ;  and  I  observed  at  the 
opposite  window,  all  that  bustle  of  drawing  curtains,  peeping 
faces,  and  hasty  retreats,  which  denote  female  anxiety  and  per- 
plexity, at  the  unexpected  approach  of  a  stranger. 

After  some  time  the  parson's  single  servant,  a  middle-aged, 
slovenly  man,  in  a  loose  frock,  and  grey  kerseymere  nondescripts, 
opened  the  gate,  and  informed  me  that  his  master  was  at  home. 
With  a  few  earnest  admonitions  to  my  admitter — who  was,  like 
the  domestics  of  many  richer  men,  both  groom  and  valet — re- 
specting the  safety  of  my  borrowed  horse,  I  entered  the  house  : 
the  servant  did  not  think -it  necessary  to  inquire  my  name,  but 
threw  open  the  door  of  the  study,  with  the  brief  introduction  of 
— "  A  gentleman,  sir." 

Clutterbuck  was  standing,  with  his  back  towards  me,  upon  a 
pair  of  library  steps,  turning  over  some  dusky  volumes  ;  and  be- 
low stood  a  pale,  cadaverous  youth,  with  a  set  and  serious 
countenance,  that  bore  no  small  likeness  to  Clutterbuck  him- 
self. 

"  Mon  Dieii"  thought  I,  "  he  cannot  have  made  such  good  use 
of   his  matrimonial  state  as  to  have  raised  this  lanky  impression 


234  PELHAM;  OR, 

of  himself  in  the  space  of  seven  months!"  The  good  man 
turned  round,  and  ahnost  fell  off  the  steps  with  the  nervous 
shock  of  beholding  me  so  near  him  ;  he  descended  with  precipita- 
tion, and  shook  me  so  warmly  and  tightly  by  the  hand,  that  he 
brought  tears  into  my  eyes,  as  well  as  his  own. 

"Gently,  my  good  friend,"  said  I — ^^ pane, precor,  or  you  will 
force  me  to  say,  '  ibimus  iind,  ambo,flentes  valido  connexifoedere.'  " 

Clutterbuck's  eyes  watered  still  more,  when  he  heard  the  grate- 
ful sounds  of  what  to  him  was  the  mother  tongue.  He  surveyed 
me  from  head  to  foot  with  an  air  of  benign  and  fatherly  com- 
placency, and  dragging  forth  from  its  sullen  rest  a  large  arm- 
chair, on  whose  cushions  of  rusty  horse-hair  sat  an  eternal  cloud 
of  classic  dust,  too  sacred  to  be  disturbed,  he  pliwiped  me  down 
upon  it,  before  I  was  aware  of  the  cruel  hospitality. 

"  Oh !  my  nether  garments,"  thought  I.  "  Quantiis  stidor 
inerit  Bedoso,  to  restore  you  to  your  pristine  purity  !  " 

"  But  whence  come  you  ?  "  said  my  host,  who  cherished  rather 
a  formal  and  antiquated  method  of  speech. 

"  From  the  Pythian  games,"  said  I  ;  "  the  campus  hight  New- 
market. Do  I  see  right,  or  is  not  your  insignis  juvenis  marvel- 
lously like  you  ?  Of  a  surety  he  rivals  the  Titans,  if  he  is  only  a 
seven  months'  child  !  " 

"Now,  truly,  my  worthy  friend,"  answered  Clutterbuck,  "you 
indulge  in  jesting  !  The  boy  is  my  nephew,  a  goodly  child,  and 
pains-taking  I  hope  he  will  thrive  at  our  gentle  mother.  He 
goes  to  Trinity  next  October.  Benjamin  Jeremiah,  my  lad,  this 
is  my  worthy  friend  and  benefactor,  of  whom  I  have  often  spoken  ; 
go,  and  order  him  of  our  best — he  will  partake  of  our  repast !  " 

"  No,  really,"  I  began ;  but  Clutterbuck  gently  placed  the 
hand,  whose  strength  of  affection  1  had  already  so  forcibly  ex- 
perienced, upon  my  mouth,  "  Pardon  me,  my  friend,"  said  he. 
"  No  stranger  should  depart  till  he  had  broken  bread  with  us ; 
how  much  more  than  a  friend !  Go,  Benjamin  Jeremiah,  and 
tell  your  aunt  that  Mr.  Pelham  will  dine  with  us ;  and  order, 
furthermore,  that  the  barrel  of  oysters  sent  unto  us  as  a  present, 
by  my  worthy  friend  Dr.  Swallow'em,  be  dressed  in  the  fashion 
that  seemeth  best ;  they  are  a  classic  dainty,  and  we  shall  think 
of  our  great  masters  the  ancients  while  we  devour  them.  And 
— stop,  Benjamin  Jeremiah,  see  that  we  have  the  wine  with  the 
black  seal ;  and — now — go,  Benjamin  Jeremiah  !  " 

"  Well,  my  old  friend,"  said  I,  when  the  door  closed  upon  the 
sallow  and  smileless  nephew,  "  how  do  you  love  the  connubial 
yoke  ?  Do  you  give  the  same  advice  as  Socrates  ?  I  hope,  at 
least,  it  is  not  from  the  same  experience." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  235 

"Hem!"  answered  the  grave  Christopher,  in  a  tone  that 
struck  me  as  somewhat  nervous  and  uneasy,  "  you  are  become 
quite  a  humorist  since  we  parted.  I  suppose  you  have  been 
warming  your  wit  by  the  lambent  fires  of  Horace  and  Aristoph- 
anes !  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  the  hving  allow  those  whose  toilsome  lot  is 
to  mix  constantly  wilh  them,  but  little  time  to  study  the  monu- 
ments of  the  dead.  But,  in  sober  earnest,  are  you  as  happy  as 
I  wish  you  .''  " 

Clutterbuck  looked  down  for  a  moment,  and  then,  turning 
towards  the  table,  laid  one  hand  upon  a  manuscript,  and  pointed 
with  the  other  to  his  books.  "With  this  society,"  said  he, 
"  how  can  I  be  otherwise  ?  " 

I  gave  him  no  reply,  but  put  my  hand  upon  his  manuscript. 
He  made  a  modest  and  coy  effort  to  detain  it,  but  I  knew  that 
writers  were  like  women,  and  making  use  of  no  displeasing 
force,  I  possessed  myself  of  the  paper. 

It  was  a  treatise  on  the  Greek  participle.  My  heart  sickened 
within  me  ;  but,  as  I  caught  the  eager  glance  of  the  poor  author, 
I  brightened  up  my  countenance  into  an  expression  of  pleasure, 
and  appeared  to  read  and  comment  upon  the  difficilcs  nugcB  with 
an  interest  commensurate  to  his  own.  Meanwhile  the  youth 
returned.  He  had  much  of  that  delicacy  of  sentiment  which 
always  accompanies  mental  cultivation,  of  whatever  sort  it  may 
be.  He  went,  with  a  scarlet  blush  over  his  thin  face,  to  his 
uncle,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  which,  from  the  an- 
gry embarrassment  it  appeared  to  occasion,  I  was  at  no  loss  to 
divine. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  we  are  too  long  acquainted  for  ceremony. 
Yowx placcns  uxor,  like  all  ladies  in  the  same  predicament,  thinks 
your  invitation  a  little  unadvised ;  and,  in  real  earnest,  I  have 
so  long  a  ride  to  perform,  that  I  would  rather  eat  your  oysters 
another  day  ! " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Clutterbuck,  with  greater  eagerness  than  his 
even  temperament  was  often  hurried  into  betraying — "no,  I  will 
go  and  reason  with  her  myself.  '  Wives,  obey  your  husbands,' 
saith  the  preacher  ! "  And  the  quondam  senior  wrangler  al- 
most upset  his  chair  in  the  perturbation  with  which  he  arose 
ixQxw  it. 

I  laid  my  hand  upon  him.  "Let  me  go  myself,"  said  I, 
"  since  you  will  have  me  dine  with  you.  '  The  sex  is  ever  to  a 
stranger  kind,'  and  I  shall  probably  be  more  persuasive  than  you, 
in  despite  of  your  legitimate  authority." 

So  saying,  I  left  the  room,  with  a  curiosity  more  painful  than 


236  PELHAM;  OR, 

pleasing,  to  see  the  collegian's  wife.     I  arrested  the  man-servant, 
and  ordered  him  to  usher  and  announce  me, 

I  was  led  instanter  into  the  apartment  where  I  had  discovered 
all  the  signs  of  female  inquisitiveness,  which  I  have  before  de- 
tailed. There  I  discovered  a  small  woman,  in  a  robe  equally  slat- 
ternly and  fine, with  a  sharp  pointed  nose,  small,  cold,  grey  eyes,  and 
a  complexion  high  towards  the  cheek-bones,  but  waxing  of  a 
light  green  before  it  reached  the  wide  and  querulous  mouth, 
which,  well  I  ween,  seldom  opened  to  smile  upon  the  unfortunate 
possessor  of  her  charms.  She,  like  the  Rev.  Christopher,  was 
not  without  her  companions  ;  a  tall  meagre  woman,  of  advanced 
age,  and  a  girl,  some  years  younger  than  herself,  were  introduced 
to  me  as  her  mother  and  sister. 

My  entri  occasioned  no  little  confusion,  but  I  know  well  how 
to  remedy  that.  I  held  out  my  hand  so  cordially  to  the  wife, 
that  I  enticed,  though  with  evident  reluctance,  two  bony  fingers 
into  my  own,  which  I  did  not  dismiss  without  a  most  mollifying 
and  affectionate  squeeze  ;  and  drawing  my  chair  close  towards 
her,  began  conversing  as  familiarly  as  if  I  had  known  the  whole 
triad  for  years.  I  declared  my  joy  at  seeing  my  old  friend  so 
happily  settled — commented  on  the  improvement  of  his  looks — 
ventured  a  sly  joke  at  the  good  effects  of  matrimony — praised  a 
cat  couchant,  worked  in  worsted  by  the  venerable  hand  of  the 
eldest  matron — offered  to  procure  her  a  real  cat  of  the  true 
Persian  breed,  black  ears  four  inches  long,  with  a  tail  like  a 
squirrel's ;  and  then  slid,  all  at  once,  into  the  unauthorized 
invitation  of  the  good  man  of  the  house. 

"  Clutterbuck,"  said  I,  "  has  asked  me  very  warmly  to  stay 
dinner ;  but,  before  I  accepted  his  offer,  I  insisted  upon  coming 
to  see  how  far  it  was  confirmed  by  you.  Gentlemen,  you  are 
aware,  my  dear  Madame,  know  nothing  of  these  matters,  and  I 
never  accept  a  married  man's  invitation  till  it  has  the  sanction 
of  his  lady  ;  I  have  an  example  of  that  at  home.  My  mother 
(Lady  Frances)  is  the  best-tempered  woman  in  the  world :  but 
my  father  could  no  more  take  the  liberty  (for  I  may  truly  call  it 
such)  to  ask  even  his  oldest  friend  to  dinner,  without  consulting 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  than  he  could  think  of  flying.  No  one 
(says  my  mother,  and  she  says  what  is  very  true),  can  tell  about 
the  household  affairs,  but  those  who  have  the  management  of 
them  ;  and  in  pursuance  of  this  aphorism,  I  dare  not  accept  any 
invitation  in  this  house,  except  from  its  mistress." 

"  Really,"  said  Mrs.  Clutterbuck,  coloring,  with  mingled  em- 
barrassment and  gratification,  "  you  are  very  considerate  and 
polite,  Mr.  Pelham  •.  I  only  wish  Mr.  Clutterbuck  paid  half  youi 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  zvj 

attention  to  these  things  ;  nobody  can  tell  the  trouble  and  incon' 
venience  he  puts  me  to.  If  I  Aa^/  known,  a  little  time  before, 
that  you  were  coming — but  now  I  fear  v.'e  have  nothing  in  th.: 
house  ;  but  if  you  can  partake  of  our  fare,  such  as  it  is,  Mr. 
Pelham— " 

"Your  kindness  enchants  me,"  I  exclaimed,  "  and  I  no  longer 
scruple  to  confess  the  pleasure  I  have  in  accepting  my  old 
friend's  offer." 

This  affair  being  settled,  I  continued  to  converse  for  some 
minutes  with  as  much  vivacity  as  I  could  summon  to  my  aid, 
and  when  I  went  once  more  to  the  library,  it  was  with  the  com- 
fortable impression  of  having  left  those  as  friends,  whom  I  had 
visited  as  foes. 

The  dinner  hour  was  four,  and,  till  it  came,  Clutterbuck  and  I 
amused  ourselves  "  in  commune  wise  and  sage."  There  was 
something  high  in  the  sentiments  and  generous  in  the  feelings 
of  this  man,  which  made  me  the  more  regret  the  bias  of  mind 
which  rendered  them  so  unavailing.  At  college  he  had  never 
(i//is  dissimills  in  nostro  tempore  natis  /)  cringed  to  the  possessors 
of  clerical  power.  In  the  duties  of  his  station  as  dean  of  the 
college,  he  was  equally  strict  to  the  black  cap  and  the  lordly  hat. 
Nay,  when  one  of  his  private  pupils,  whose  father  was  possessed 
of  more  church  preferment  than  any  nobleman  in  the  peerage, 
disobeyed  his  repeated  summons,  and  constantly  neglected  to 
attend  his  instructions,  he  sent  for  him,  resigned  his  tuition,  and 
refused  any  longer  to  accept  a  salary  which  the  negligence  of 
his  pupil  would  not  allow  him  to  requite.  In  his  clerical  tenets 
he  was  high  :  in  his  judgment  of  others  he  was  mild.  His 
knowledge  of  the  liberty  of  Greece  was  not  drawn  from  the  igno- 
rant historian  of  her  Republics  ;  *  nor  did  he  find  in  the  con- 
templative mildness  and  gentle  philosophy  of  the  ancients, 
nothing  but  a  sanction  for  modern  bigotry  and   existing  aliuses. 

It  was  a  remarkable  trait  in  his  conversation,  that  though  he 
imdulged  in  many  references  to  the  old  authors,  and  allusions 
to  classic  customs,  he  never  deviated  into  the  innumerable  quo- 
tations with  which  his  memory  was  stored.  No  words,  in  spite 
of  all  the  quaintness  and  antiquity  of  his  dialect,  purely  Latin 
or  Greek,  ever  escaped  his  lips,  except  in  our  engagements  at 
capping  verses,  or  when  he  was  allured  into  accepting  a  chal 
lenge  of  learning  from  some  of  its  pretenders  ;  then,  indeed,  he 
could  pour  forth  such  a  torrent  of  authorities  as  effectually  si- 

*  It  is  really  a  disprace  to  our  University,  that  any  of  its  colleges  should  accept  as  a 
reference,  or  even  tolerate  as  an  author,  the  presumptuous  bigot  who  has  bequeathed 
to  us,  in  his  History  of  Greece,  the  masterpiece  of  a  declaimcr  without  energy,  and  of 
a  pedant  without  learning. 


238  PELHAM;  OR, 

lenced  his  opponent ;  but  these  contests  were  rarely  entered  in- 
to, and  these  triumphs  moderately  indulged.  Yet  he  loved  the 
use  of  quotations  in  others,  and  I  knew  the  greatest  pleasure  I 
could  give  him  was  in  the  frequent  use  of  them.  Perhaps  he 
thought  it  would  seem  like  an  empty  parade  of  learning  in  one 
who  so  confessedly  possessed  it,  to  deal  in  the  strange  words  of 
another  tongue,  and  consequently  rejected  them,  while,  with  an 
innocent  inconsistency,  characteristic  of  the  man,  it  never  oc- 
curred to  him  that  there  was  any  thing,  either  in  the  quaintness 
of  his  dialect  or  the  occupations  of  his  leisure,  which  might  sub- 
ject him  to  the  same  imputation  of  pedantry. 

And  yet,  at  times,  when  he  warmed  in  his  subject,  there  was 
a  tone  in  his  language  as  well  as  sentiment,  which  might  not  be 
improperly  termed  eloquent ;  and  the  real  modesty  and  quiet 
enthusiasm  of  his  nature,  took  away,  from  the  impression  he 
made,  the  feeling  of  pomposity  and  affectation  with  which  other- 
wise he  might  have  inspired  you. 

"  You  have  a  calm  and  quiet  habitation  here,"  said  I ;  "the 
very  rooks  seem  to  have  something  lulling  in  that  venerable  caw 
which  it  always  does  me  such  good  to  hear." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Clutterbuck,  *'  I  own  that  there  is  much 
that  is  grateful  to  the  temper  of  my  mind  in  this  retired  spot. 
I  fancy  that  I  can  the  better  give  myself  up  to  the  contempla- 
tion which  makes,  as  it  were,  my  mtellectual  element  and  food. 
And  yet  I  dare  say  that  in  this  (as  in  all  other  things)  I  do 
strongly  err ;  for  I  remember  that  during  my  only  sojourn  in 
London,  I  was  wont  to  feel  the  sound  of  wheels  and  of  the 
throng  of  steps  shake  the  windows  of  my  lodging  in  the  Strand, 
as  if  it  were  but  a  warning  to  recall  my  mind  more  closely  to 
its  studies : — of  a  verity  that  noisy  evidence  of  man's  labor 
reminded  me  how  little  the  great  interest  of  his  rolling  world 
were  to  me,  and  the  feeling  of  solitude  amongst  the  crowds 
without,  made  me  cling  more  fondly  to  the  company  I  found 
within.  For  it  seems  that  the  mind  is  ever  addicted  to  contra- 
ries, and  that  when  it  be  transplanted  into  a  soil  where  all  its 
neighbours  do  produce  a  certain  fruit,  it  doth,  from  a  strange 
perversity,  bring  forth  one  of  \  different  sort.  You  would  little 
believe,  my  honored  friend,  th  t  in  this  lonely  seclusion,  I  can- 
not at  all  times  prohibit  my  t  loughts  from  wandering  to  that 
gay  world  of  London,  which^  during  my  tarry  therein,  occupied 
them  in  so  partial  a  degree.  You  smile,  my  friend,  nevertheless 
it  is  true ;  and  when  you  reflect  that  I  dwelt  in  the  western 
department  of  the  metropolis,  near  vmto  the  noble  mansion  of 
Somerset  House,  and  consequently  in   the  very  centre  of  what 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  239 

the  idle  call  Fashion,  you  will  not  be  so  surprised  at  the  occa- 
sional migration  of  my  thoughts." 

Here  the  worthy  Clutterbuck  paused  and  sighed  slightly, 
"  Do  you  farm,  or  cultivate  your  garden,"  said  I ;  "  they  are  no 
ignoble  nor  unclassical  employments  ?  " 

"  Unhappily,"  answered  Clutterbuck,  "  I  am  inclined  to 
neither ;  my  chest  pains  me  with  a  sharp  and  piercing  pang 
when  I  attempt  to  stoop,  and  my  respiration  is  short  and  asth- 
matic ;  and,  in  truth,  I  seldom  love  to  stir  from  my  books  and 
papers.  I  go  with  Pliny  to  his  garden,  and  with  Virgil  to  his 
farm  ;  those  mental  excursions  are  the  sole  ones  I  indulge  in  ; 
and  when  I  think  of  my  appetite  for  application,  and  my  love  of 
idleness,  I  am  tempted  to  wax  proud  of  the  propensities  which 
reverse  the  censure  of  Tacitus  on  our  German  ancestors,  and 
incline  so  fondly  to  quiet,  while  they  turn  so  restlessly  from 
sloth." 

Here  the  speaker  was  interrupted  by  a  long,  low,  dry  cough, 
which  penetrated  me  to  the  heart.  "  Alas !  "  thought  I,  as  I 
heard  it,  and  looked  upon  my  poor  friend's  hectic  and  hollow 
cheek,  "  it  is  not  only  his  mind  that  will  be  the  victim  to  the 
fatality  of  his  studies." 

It  was  some  moments  before  I  renewed  the  conversation,  and 
I  had  scarcely  done  so  before  I  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Benjamin  Jeremiah,  with  message  from  his  aunt  that  dinner 
would  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes.  Another  long  whisper  to 
Christopher  succeeded.  The  cidevant  fellow  of  Trinity  looked 
down  at  his  garments  with  a  perplexed  air.  I  saw  at  once  that 
he  had  received  a  hint  on  the  propriety  of  a  change  of  raiment. 
To  give  him  due  leisure  for  this,  I  asked  the  youth  to  show  me 
a  room  in  which  I  might  perform  the  usual  ablutions  previous 
to  dinner,  and  followed  him  up  stairs  to  a  comfortless  sort  of 
dressing-room,  without  a  fire-place,  where  I  found  a  yellow-ware 
jug  and  basin,  and  a  towel,  of  so  coarse  a  huckaback,  that  1  did 
not  dare  adventure  its  rough  texture  next  my  complexion — my 
skin  is  not  made  for  such  rude  fellowship.  When  I  was  ten- 
derly and  daintily  anointing  my  hands  with  some  hard  water,  of 
no  Blandusian  spring,  and  that  vile  composition  cntiiled  Wind- 
sor soap,  I  heard  the  difficult  breathing  of  poor  Clutterbuck  on 
the  stairs,  and  soon  after  he  entered  the  adjacent  room.  Two 
minutes  more,  and  his  'servant  joined  him,  for  I  heard  the 
rough  voice  of  the  domestic  say,  "There  is  no  more  of  the  wine 
with  the  black  seal  left,  sir  ! " 

"  No  more,  good  Dixon  t  you  are  mistaken  grievously.  I 
had  two  dozen  not  a  week  since." 


240  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  Don't  know,  I  am  sure,  sir  !  "  answered  Dixon,  with  a  care- 
less and  half-impertinent  accent ;  "  but  there  are  great  things, 
like  alligators,  in  the  cellar,  which  break  all  the  bottles  ! " 

"  Alligators  in  my  cellar  !  "  said  the  astonished  Clutterbuck. 

"  Yes,  sir — at  least  a  venomous  sort  of  reptile  like  them, 
which  the  people  about  here  call  efts  !" 

"What!"  said  Clutterbuck,  innocently,  and  evidently  not 
seeing  the  irony  of  his  own  question  ;  "  What !  have  the  efts 
broken  two  dozen  bottles  in  a  week  ?  Of  an  exceeding  surety, 
it  is  strange  that  a  little  creature  of  the  lizard  species  should  be 
so  destructive — perchance  they  have  an  antipathy  to  the  vinous 
smell  ;  I  will  confer  with  my  learned  friend.  Dr.  Dissectall, 
touching  their  strength  and  habits.  Bring  up  some  of  the  port, 
then,  good  Dixon." 

"  Yes,  sir.  All  the  corn  is  out ;  I  had  none  for  the  gentle- 
man's horse." 

"  Why,  Dixon,  my  memory  fails  me  strangely,  or  I  paid  you, 
the  sum  of  four  pounds  odd  shillings  for  corn  on  Friday  last." 

"  Yes,  sir :  but  your  cow  and  the  chickens  eat  so  much  ;  and 
then  blind  Dobbin  has  four  feeds  a-day,  and  Farmer  Johnson 
always  puts  his  horse  in  our  stable,  and  Mrs.  Clutterbuck  and 
the  ladies  fed  the  jackass  the  other  day  in  the  hired  donkey- 
chaise  ;  besides,  the  rats  and  mice  are  always  at  it." 

"  It  is  a  marvel  unto  me,"  answered  Clutterbu<^k,  "  how  det- 
rimental the  vermin  race  are  ;  they  seem  to  have  noted  my  poor 
possessions  as  their  especial  prey  ;  remind  me  that  I  write  to 
Dr.  Dissectall  to-morrow,  good  Dixon." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  now  I  think  of  it — "  But  here  Mr.  Dixon  was 
cut  short  in  his  items,  by  the  entrance  of  a  third  person,  who 
proved  to  be  Mrs.  Clutterbuck. 

"  What,  not  dressed  yet,  Mr.  Clutterbuck  !  what  a  dawdler 
you  are  ! — and  do  look — was  ever  a  woman  so  used  ?  You  have 
wiped  your  razor  upon  my  nightcap — you  dirty,  slovenly " 

"I  crave  you  many  pardons  ;  I  own  my  error  !  "  said  Clutter- 
buck, in  a  nervous  tone  of  interruption. 

"  Error,  indeed  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Clutterbuck,  in  a  sharp,  over- 
stretched querulous  falsetto,  suited  to  the  occasion  :  "  but  this 
is  always  the  case — I  am  sure  my  poor  temper  is  tried  to  the  ut- 
most— and  Lord  help  thee,  idiot  !  you  have  thrust  those  spindle 
legs  of  yours  into  your  coatsleeves  instead  of  your  breeches !  " 

"  Of  a  truth,  good  wife,  your  eyes  are  more  discerning  than 
mine  ;  and  my  legs,  which  are,  as  you  say,  somewhat  thin,  have 
indued  themselves  in  what  appertaineth  not  unto  them  ;  but  for 
all  that,  Dorothea,  I  am  not  deserving  of  the  epithet  of  idiot,  with 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN:  241 

which  you  have  been  pleased  to  favor  me  ;  although  my  humble 
faculties  are,  indeed,  of  no  eminent  or  surpassing  order — " 

"  Pooh  !  pooh !  Mr.  Clutterbuck,  I  am  sure,  I  don't  know 
what  else  you  are,  muddling  your  head  all  day  with  those  good- 
for-nothing  books.  And  now  do  tell  me,  how  you  could  think 
of  asking  Mr.  Pelham  to  dinner,  when  you  knew  we  had  nothing 
in  the  world  but  hashed  mutton  and  an  apple-pudding  ?  Is  that 
the  way,  sir,  you  disgrace  your  wife,  after  her  condescension  in 
marrying  you .'' " 

"  Really,"  answered  the  patient  Clutterbuck,  "  I  was  forgetful 
of  those  matters ;  but  my  friend  cares  as  little  as  myself  about 
the  grosser  tastes  of  the  table  ;  and  the  feast  of  intellectual  con- 
verse is  all  that  he  desires  in  his  brief  sojourn  beneath  our 
roof." 

"  Feast  of  fiddlesticks.  Mr.  Clutterbuck !  did  ever  man  talk 
such  nonsense  ? " 

"  Besides,"  rejoined  the  fnaster  of  the  house,  unheeding  this 
interruption,  "  we  have  a  luxury  even  of  the  palate,  than  which 
there  are  none  more  delicate,  and  unto  which  he,  as  well  as  my- 
self, is,  I  know,  somewhat  unphilosophically  given  ;  I  speak  of 
the  oysters,  sent  here  by  our  good  friend  Dr.  Swallow'em." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Clutterbuck  ?  My  poor  mother  and 
I  had  those  oysters  last  night  for  our  supper.  I  am  sure  she, 
and  my  sister,  are  almost  starved  ;  but  you  are  always  wanting 
to  be  pampered  up  above  us  all." 

"  Nay,  na}',"  answered  Clutterbuck,  "  you  know  you  accuse 
me  wrongfully,  Dorothea  ;  but  now  I  think  of  it,  would  it  not  be 
better  to  modulate  the  tone  of  our  conversation,  seeing  that  our 
guest  (a  circumstance  which  until  now  quite  escaped  my  recol- 
lection) was  shown  into  the  next  room,  for  the  purpose  of  wash- 
ing his  hands,  the  which,  from  their  notable  cleanliness,  seemed 
to  me  wholly  unnecessary.  I  would  not  have  him  overhear  you, 
Dorothea,  lest  his  kind  heart  should  imagine  me  less  happy  than 
— than — it  wishes  me  !  " 

"Good  God,  Mr.  Clutterbuck  !  "  were  the  only  words  I  heard 
farther  :  and  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  and  a  suffocating  feeling  in 
my  throat,  for  the  matrimonial  situation  of  my  unfortunate 
friend,  I  descended  into  the  drawing-room.  The  only  one  yet 
there  was  the  pale  nephew  :  he  was  bending  painfully  over  a 
a  book  ;  I  took  it  fromliim  ;  it  was  "  Bentley  upon  Phalaris." 
I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  throwing  it  into  the  hre — "  another 
victim  !  "  thought  I. — Oh,  the  curse  of  an  English  education  ! 

By  and  by,  down  came  the  mother  and  the  sister,  tlien  Clutter- 
buck, and  lastly,  bedizened  out  with  gewgaws  and  trumpery, — ■ 


242  PELHAM ;  OR, 

the  wife.  Born  and  nurtured  as  I  was  in  the  art  of  the  voltt, 
sciol/o^pensieri  stretti*  I  had  seldom  found  a  more  arduous  task  ot 
•dissimulation  than  that  which  I  experienced  now.  However,  the 
hope  to  benefit  my  friend's  situation  assisted  me  :  the  best  way,  I 
thought,  of  obtaining  him  more  respect  from  his  wife,  will  be 
by  showing  her  the  respect  he  meets  with  from  others  :  accord- 
ingly, I  sat  down  by  her,  and  having  first  conciliated  her  atten- 
tion by  some  of  that  coin,  termed  compliments,  in  which  there 
is  no  counterfeit  that  does  not  have  the  universal  effect  of  real, 
I  spoke  with  the  most  profound  veneration  of  the  talents  and 
learning  of  Clutterbuck — I  dilated  upon  the  high  reputation  he 
enjoyed — upon  the  general  esteem  in  which  he  was  held — upon 
the  kindness  of  his  heart — the  sincerity  of  his  modesty — the  in- 
tegrity of  his  honor — in  short,  whatever  I  thought  likely  to 
affect  her  ;  most  of  all,  I  insisted  upon  the  high  panegyrics  be- 
stowed upon  him  by  Lord  this,  and  the  Earl  that,  and  wound 
up,  with  adding  that  I  was  certain  he  would  die  a  bishop.  My 
eloquence  had  its  effect ;  all  dinner-time,  Mrs.  Clutterbuck 
treated  her  husband  with  even  striking  consideration :  my 
words  seemed  to  have  gifted  her  with  a  new  light,  and  to  have 
wrought  a  thorough  transformation  in  her  view  of  her  lord  and 
master's  character.  Who  knows  not  the  truth,  that  we  have 
dim  and  short-sighted  eyes  to  estimate  the  nature  of  our  own 
kin,  and  that  we  borrow  the  spectacles  which  alone  enable  us 
to  discern  their  merits  or  their  failings  from  the  opinion  of 
strangers  !  It  may  be  readily  supposed  that  the  dinner  did  not 
pass  without  its  share  of  the  ludicrous — that  the  waiter  and  the 
dishes,  the  family  and  the  host,  would  have  afforded  ample 
materials  no  less  for  the  student  of  nature  in  Hogarth,  than  of 
caricature  in  Bunbury  ;  but  I  was  too  seriously  occupied  in  pur- 
suing my  object,  and  marking  its  success,  to  have  time  even 
for  a  smile.  Ah  !  if  ever  you  would  allure  your  son  to  diplo- 
macy, show  him  how  subservient  he  may  make  it  to  benevolence. 

When  the  women  had  retired,  w^e  drew  our  chairs  near  to 
each  other,  and,  laying  down  my  watch  on  the  table,  as  I 
looked  out  upon  the  declining  clay,  I  said,  "  Let  us  make  the 
best  of  our  time  ;  I  can  only  linger  here  one  half-hour  longer." 

"  And  how,  my  friend,"  said  Clutterbuck,  "  shall  we  learn 
the  method  of  making  the  best  use  of  time  ?  there,  whether  it 
be  in  the  larger  segments,  or  the  petty  subdivisions  of  our  life, 
rests  the  great  enigma  of  our  being.  Who  is  there  that  has 
ever  exclaimed — (pardon  my  pedantry,  I  am  for  once  driveft 
into  Greek) — Eureka  !  to  this  most  difficult  of  the  sciences  ?  " 

*  The  open  countenance  and  closed  thoughts. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN.  243 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "it  is  not  for  you,  the  favored  scholar — the 
honored  academician — whose  hours  are  never  idly  employed,  to 
ask  this  question  !  " 

"Your  friendship  makes  too  flattering  the  acumen  of  your 
judgment,"  answered  the  modest  Clutterbuck.  "  It  has  indeed 
been  my  lot  to  cultivate  the  fields  of  truth,  as  transmitted  into 
our  hands  by  the  wise  men  of  old  ;  and  I  have  much  to  be  thank- 
ful for,  that  I  have,  in  the  employ,  been  neither  curtailed  in  my 
leisure,  nor  abashed  in  my  independence — the  two  great  goods 
of  a  calm  and  meditative  mind  :  yet  are  there  moments  in  which 
I  am  led  to  doubt  of  the  wisdom  of  my  pursuits  ;  and  when,  with 
a  feverish  and  shaking  hand,  I  put  aside  the  books  which  have 
detained  me  from  my  rest  till  the  morning  hour,  and  repair  unto 
a  couch  often  baffled  of  slumber  by  the  pains  and  discomforts  of 
this  worn  and  feeble  frame,  I  almost  wish  I  could  purchase  the 
rude  health  of  the  peasant  by  the  exchange  of  an  idle  and 
imperfect  learning  for  the  ignorance,  content  with  the  narrow 
world  it  possesses,  because  unconscious  of  the  limitless  creation 
beyond.  Yet,  my  dear  and  esteemed  friend,  there  is  a  dignified 
and  tranquillizing  philosophy  in  the  writings  of  the  ancients 
which  ought  to  teach  me  a  better  condition  of  mind ;  and  when 
I  have  risen  from  the  lofty,  albeit,  somewhat  melancholy  strain, 
which  swells  through  the  essays  of  the  graceful  and  tender  Cicero, 
I  have  indeed  felt  a  momentary  satisfaction  at  my  studies,  and 
an  elation  even  at  the  petty  success  with  which  I  have  cher- 
ished them.  But  these  are  brief  and  fleeting  moments,  and  de- 
serve chastisement  for  their  pride.  There  is  one  thing,  my  Pel- 
ham,  which  has  grieved  me  bitterly  of  late,  and  that  is,  that  in 
the  earnest  attention  which  it  is  the — perhaps  fastidious — cus- 
tom of  our  University,  to  pay  to  the  minutiae  of  classic  lore,  I  do 
now  oftentimes  lose  the  spirit  and  beauty  of  the  general  bear- 
ing ;  nay,  I  derive  a  far  greater  pleasure  from  the  ingenious 
amendment  of  a  perverted  text,  than  from  all  the  turn  and 
thought  of  the  sense  itself :  while  I  am  straightening  a  crooked 
nail  in  the  wine-cask,  I  suffer  the  wine  to  evaporate  ;  but  to  this 
I  am  somewhat  reconciled,  when  I  reflect  that  it  was  also  the 
misfortune  of  the  great  Porson,  and  the  elaborate  Parr,  men  with 
whom  1  blush  to  find  myself  included  in  the  same  sentence." 

"  My  friend,"  said  I,  "  I  wish  neither  to  wound  your  modesty, 
nor  to  impugn  your  pursuits  ;  but  think  you  not  it  would  be  bet- 
ter, both  for  men  and  for  yourself,  if,  while  you  are  yet  in,  the 
vigor  of  your  age  and  reason,  you  occupy  your  ingenuity  and 
application  in  some  more  useful  and  lofiy  work,  than  that  which 
you  suffered  me  to  glance  at  in  your  library ;  and,  moreover,  ai 


244  PELHAM :  0A\ 

the  great  object  of  him  who  would  perfect  his  mind,  is  first  to 
strengthen  the  faculties  of  his  body,  would  it  not  be  prudent  in 
you  to  lessen  for  a  time  your  devotion  to  books ;  to  exercise 
yourself  in  the  fresh  air — to  relax  the  bow,  by  loosing  the  string; 
to  mix  more  with  the  living,  and  impart  to  men  in  conversation, 
as  well  as  in  writing,  whatever  the  incessant  labor  of  many  years 
may  have  hoarded  ?  Come,  if  not  to  town,  at  least  to  its  vicin- 
ity ;  the  profits  of  your  living,  if  even  tolerably  managed,  will 
enable  you  to  do  so  without  inconvenience.  Leave  your  books 
to  their  shelves,  and  your  flock  to  their  curate,  and — you  shake 
your  head — do  I  displease  you  ?  " 

"No, no,  my  kind  and  generous  adviser  ; — but  as  the  twig  was 
set,  the  tree  must  grow.  I  have  not  been  without  that  ambition 
which,  however  vain  and  sinful,  is  the  first  passion  to  enter  the 
wayward  and  tossing  vessel  of  our  soul,  and  the  last  to  leave  its 
stranded  and  shattered  wreck  ;  but  mine  found  and  attained  its 
object  at  an  age  when  in  others  it  is,  as  yet,  a  vague  and  unset 
tied  feeling ;  and  it  feeds  now  rather  upon  the  recollections  of 
what  has  been,  than  ventures  on  a  sea  of  undried  and  strange 
expectation.  As  for  my  studies  !  how  can  you,  who  have,  and 
in  no  moderate  draught,  drunk  of  the  old  stream  of  Castaly, — 
how  can  you  ask  me  now  to  change  them  ?  Are  not  the  ancients 
my  food,  my  aliment,  my  solace  in  sorrow — my  sympathizers, 
my  very  benefactors,  in  joy  ?  Take  them  away  from  me,  and 
you  take  away  the  very  winds  which  purify  and  give  motion  to  the 
obscure  and  silent  current  of  my  life.  Besides,  my  Pelham,  it 
cannot  have  escaped  your  observation,  that  there  is  little  in  my 
present  state  which  promises  a  long  increase  of  days  :  the  few 
that  remain  to  me  must  glide  away  like  their  predecessors  ;  and 
whatever  be  the  infirmities  of  my  body,  and  the  little  harass- 
ments  which,  I  am  led  to  suspect,  do  occasionally  molest  the 
most  fortunate,  who  link  themselves  unto  the  unstable  and  fluc- 
tuating part  of  creation,  which  we  term  women,  more  especially 
in  an  hymeneal  capacity — whatever  these  may  be,  I  have  my 
refuge  and  my  comforter  in  the  golden-souled  and  dreaming 
Plato,  and  the  sententious  wisdom  of  the  less  imaginative 
Seneca.  Nor,  when  I  am  reminded  of  my  approaching  dissolu- 
tion by  the  symptoms  which  do  mostly  at  the  midnight  hour 
press  themselves  upon  me,  is  there  a  small  and  inglorious  pleas- 
ure in  the  hope  that  I  may  meet,  hereafter,  in  those  Islands  of 
the  Blest  which  they  dimly  dreamt  of,  but  which  are  opened  un- 
to my  vision,  without  a  cloud,  or  mist,  or  shadow  of  uncertainty 
and  doubt,  with  those  bright  spirits  which  we  do  now  converse 
with  so  imperfectly ;  that  I  may  catch  from  the  vej'y  lips  of  Ho- 


ADVEXTUKES  OF  A   GEXTLEMA.Y.  245 

mer,  the  unclouded  gorgeousness  of  fiction,  and  from  the 
accents  of  Archimedes,  the  unadulterated  calculations  of 
truth  !  " 

Clutterbuck  ceased  ;  and  the  glow  of  his  enthusiasm  diffused 
itself  over  his  sunken  e3'e  and  consumptive  cheek.  The  boy, 
who  had  sat  apart,  and  silent,  during  our  discourse,  laid  his  head 
upon  the  table,  and  sobbed  audibly  ;  and  I  rose,  deeply  affected, 
to  ofifer  to  one  for  whom  they  were,  indeed  unavailing,  the 
wishes  and  blessing  of  an  eager,  but  not  hardened  disciple  of 
the  world.  We  parted  :  on  this  earth  we  can  never  meet  again. 
The  light  has  wasted  itself  away  beneath  the  bushel.  It  will 
be  six  weeks  to-morrow  since  the  meek  and  noble-minded  aca- 
demician breathed  his  last ! 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 
'Tis  but  a  single  murder. — Lillo's  Fatal  Curiosity. 

It  was  in  a  melancholy  and  thoughtful  mood  that  I  rode  away 
from  the  parsonage.  Numerous  and  hearty  were  the  maledic- 
tions I  bestowed  upon  a  system  of  education  which,  while  it  was 
so  ineffective  with  the  many,  was  so  pernicious  to  the  few.  Mis- 
erable delusion  ( thought  I),  that  encourages  the  ruin  of  health 
and  the  perversion  of  intellect,  by  studies  that  are  as  unprofit- 
able to  the  world  as  they  are  destructive  to  the  possessor — that 
incapacitate  him  for  public,  and  unfit  him  for  private,  life;  — 
and  that,  while  they  expose  him  to  the  ridicule  of  strangers,  ren- 
der him  the  victim  of  his  wife,  and  the  prey  of  his  domestic  ! 

Busied  in  such  reflections,  I  rode  quickly  on,  till  I  found  my- 
self, once  more,  on  the  heath.  I  looked  anxiously  round  for  the 
conspicuous  equipage  of  Lady  Chester,  but  in  vain ;  the  ground 
was  thin — nearly  all  the  higher  orders  had  retired  ;  the  common 
people,  grouped  together,  and  clamoring  noisily,  were  withdraw- 
ing :  and  the  shrill  voices  of  the  intinerant  hawkers  of  cards  and 
bills  had,  at  length,  subsided  into  silence.  I  rode  over  the 
ground,  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  solitary  straggler  of  our 
party.  Alas  !  there  was  not  one  ;  and  with  much  reluctance  at, 
and  distaste  to,  my  lonely  retreat,  I  turned  in  a  homeward  di- 
rection from  the  course. 

The  evening  had  already  set  in,  but  there  was  a  moon  in  the 
cold  grey  sky,  that  I  could  almost  have  thanked,  in  a  sonnet,  for 
a  light  which  1  felt  was  never  more  welcomely  dispensed,  when  I 


246  PELHAM ;  OK, 

thought  of  the  cross-roads  and  dreary  country  I  had  to  pass  be- 
fore I  reached  the  longed-for  haven  of  Chester  Park.  After  I 
had  left  the  direct  road,  the  wind,  which  had  before  been  pierc- 
ingly keen,  fell,  and  I  perceived  a  dark  cloud  behind,  which  be- 
gan slowly  to  overtake  my  steps.  I  care  little,  in  general,  for 
the  discomfort  of  a  shower ;  yet,  as  when  we  are  in  one  misfor- 
tune we  always  exaggerate  the  consequence  of  a  new  one,  I  looked 
upon  my  dark  pursuer  with  a  very  impatient  and  petulant  frown, 
and  set  my  horse  on  a  trot,  much  more  suitable  to  my  inclination 
than  his  own.  Indeed,  he  seemed  fully  alive  to  the  cornless 
state  of  the  parson's  stable,  and  evinced  his  sense  of  the  circum- 
stance by  a  very  languid  mode  of  progression,  and  a  constant 
attempt,  whenever  his  pace  abated,  and  I  suffered  the  rein  to 
slumber  upon  his  neck,  to  crop  the  rank  grass  that  sprang  up  on 
either  side  of  our  road.  I  had  proceeded  about  three  miles  on 
my  way,  when  I  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs  behind  me.  My  even 
pace  soon  suffered  me  to  be  overtaken ;  and,  as  the  stranger 
checked  his  horse,  when  he  was  nearly  by  my  side,  I  turned  to- 
wards him,  and  beheld  Sir  John  Tyrrell. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  this  is  really  fortunate  ;  for  I  began  to  fear 
I  should  have  my  ride,  this  cold  evening,  entirely  to  myself." 

"  I  imagined  that  you  had  long  reached  Chester  Park  by  this 
time,"  said  I.     "Did  not  you  leave  the  course  with  our  party  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Tyrrell  ;  "  I  had  business,  at  New-market, 
with  a  rascally  fellow  of  the  name  of  Dawson.  He  lost  to  me 
rather  a  considerable  wager,  and  asked  me  to  come  to  town 
with  him  after  the  race,  in  order  to  pay  me.  As  he  said  he 
lived  on  the  direct  road  to  Chester  Park,  and  would  direct,  and 
even  accompany  me  through  all  the  difficult  part  of  the  ride,  I 
the  less  regretted  not  joining  Chester  and  his  party ;  and  you 
know,  Pelham,  that  when  pleasure  pulls  one  way,  and  money 
another,  it  is  all  over  with  the  first.  Well, — to  return  to  my 
rascal — would  you  believe,  that  when  we  got  to  Newmarket,  he 
left  me  at  the  inn,  in  order,  he  said,  to  fetch  the  money ;  and 
after  having  kept  me  in  a  cold  room,  with  a  smoky  chimney,  for 
more  than  an  hour,  without  making  his  appearance,  I  sallied  out 
into  the  town,  and  found  Mr.  Dawson  quietly  seated  in  a  hell 
with  that  scoundrel  Thornton,  whom  I  did  not  conceive,  till 
then,  he  was  acquainted  with.  It  seems  that  he  was  to  win,  at 
hazard,  sufficient  to  pay  his  wager  !  You  may  fancy  my  anger, 
and  the  consequent  increase  to  it,  when  he  rose  from  the  table, 
approached  me,  expressed  his  sorrow,  d — d  his  ill  luck,  and  in- 
formed me  that  he  could  not  pay  for  three  months.  You  know 
that  I  could  not  ride  home  with  such  a  fellow — he  might  have 


A  D  VENTURES  OF  A  GENTLE  MA .  \ '.  247 

robbed  me  by  the  way — so  I  returned  to  my  inn — dined — ordered 
my  horse — set  off — inquired  my  way  of  every  passenger  I  passed, 
and  after  innumerable  misdirections — here  I  am  !  " 

"  I  cannot  sympathize  with  you,"  said  I,  "since  I  am  bene- 
fitted by  your  misfortunes.  But  do  you  think  it  very  necessary 
to  trot  so  fast  ?  I  fear  my  horse  can  scarcely  keep  up  with 
yours." 

Tyrrell  cast  an  impatient  glance  at  my  panting  steed,  "  It  is 
cursed  unlucky  you  should  be  so  badly  mounted,  and  we  shall 
have  a  pelting  shower  presently." 

In  complaisance  to  I'yrrell,  I  endeavored  to  accelerate  my 
steed.  The  roads  were  rough  and  stony  ;  and  I  had  scarcely 
got  the  tired  animal  into  a  sharp  trot,  before — whether  or  no  by 
some  wrench  among  the  deep  ruts  and  fiinty  causeway — he  fell 
suddenly  lame.  The  impetuosity  of  Tyrrell  broke  out  in  oaths, 
and  we  both  dismounted  to  examine  the  cause  of  my  horse's 
hurt,  in  the  hope  that  it  might  only  be  the  intrusion  of  some 
pebble  between  the  shoe  and  the  hoof.  While  we  were  yet  in- 
vestigating the  cause  of  our  misfortune,  two  men  on  horseback 
overtook  us.  Tyrrell  looked  up.  "  By  Heaven,"  said  he,  in  a 
low  tone,  "  it's  that  dog  Dawson,  and  his  worthy  coadjutor,  Tom 
Thornton." 

"  What's  the  matter,  gentlemen  ?  "  cried  the  bluff  voice  of  the 
latter,  "  Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  ?  "  and  without  waiting  our 
reply,  he  dismounted,  and  came  up  to  us.  He  had  no  sooner 
felt  the  horse's  leg,  than  he  assured  us  it  was  a  most  severe 
strain,  and  that  the  utmost  I  could  effect  would  be  to  walk  the 
brute  gently  home. 

As  Tyrrell  broke  out  into  impatient  violence  at  this  speech, 
the  sharper  looked  up  at  him  with  expression  of  countenance  I 
by  no  means  liked,  but  in  a  very  civil  and  even  respectful  tone, 
said,  "  if  you  wish.  Sir  John,  to  reach  Chester  park  sooner  than 
Mr.  Pelham  can  possibly  do,  suppose  you  ride  on  with  us  ;  I 
will  put  you  in  the  direct  road  before  I  quit  you."  (Good-breed- 
ing, thought  I,  to  propose  leaving  me  to  find  my  own  way 
through  this  labyrinth  of  ruts  and  stones  !)  However,  Tyrrell 
who  was  in  a  vile  humor,  refused  the  offer,  in  no  very  courteous 
manner  ;  and  adtled,  that  he  should  continue  with  me  as  long 
as  he  could,  and  did  not  doubt  that  when  he  left  me  he  should 
be  able  to  find  his  own  way.  Thornton  pressed  the  invitation 
still  closer,  and  even  offered  sotto  voce,  to  send  Dawson  on  be- 
fore, should  the  baronet  object  to  his  company. 

"  Pray,  sir,"  said  Tyrrell,  "  leave  me  alone,  and  busy  yourself 
about   your   own    affairs."     After   so   tart   a   reply,    Thornton 


248  PELHAM ;  OR, 

thought  it  useless  to  say  more  ;  he  remounted,  and  with  a  silent 
and  swaggering  nod  of  familiarity,  soon  rode  away  with  his 
companion. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  I,  as  we  were  slowly  proceeding,  "  that 
you  rejected  Thornton's  ofifer." 

"  Why,  to  say  truth,"  answered  Tyrrell,  "  I  have  so  very  bad 
an  opinion  of  him,  that  I  was  almost  afraid  to  trust  myself  in 
his  company  on  so  dreary  a  road.  I  have  nearly  (and  he  knows 
it),  to  the  amount  of  two  thousand  pounds  about  me ;  for  I  was 
very  fortunate  in  my  betting-book  to-day." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  racing  regulations,"  said  I ;  "  but  I 
thought  one  never  paid  sums  of  that  amount  upon  the  ground  ! " 

"  Ah !  "  answered  Tyrrell,  but  I  won  this  sum,  which  is 
eighteen  hundred  pounds,  of  a  country  squire  from  Norfolk, 
M'ho  said  he  did  not  know  when  he  should  see  me  again,  and 
insisted  on  paying  me  on  the  spot :  faith  I  was  not  nice  in  the 
matter.  Thornton  was  standing  by  at  the  time,  and  I  did  not 
half  like  the  turn  of  his  eye  when  he  saw  me  put  it  up.  Do  you 
know,  too,"  continued  Tyrrell,  after  a  pause,  '*  that  I  had  a 
d — d  fellow  dodging  me  all  day,  and  yesterday  too  ;  wherever  I 
go,  I  am  sure  to  see  him.  He  seems  constantly,  though  dis- 
tantly, to  follow  me  ;  and  what  is  worse,  he  wraps  himself  up  so 
well,  and  keeps  at  so  cautious  a  distance,  that  I  can  never  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  face." 

I  know  not  why,  but  at  that  moment  the  recollection  of  the 
mufHed  figure  I  had  seen  upon  the  course,  flashed  upon  me. 

"  Does  he  wear  a  long  horseman's  cloak  .''  "  said  I. 

"  He  does,"  answered  Tyrrell,  in  surprise  ;  have  you  observed 
him  ?  " 

"  I  saw  such  a  person  on  the  race-ground,"  replied  I ;  "  but 
only  for  an  instant !  " 

Farther  conversation  was  suspended  by  a  few  heavy  drops 
which  fell  upon  us  ;  the  cloud  had  passed  over  the  moon,  and 
was  hastening  rapidly  and  loweringly  over  our  heads.  Tyrrell 
was  neither  of  an  age,  a  frame,  nor  a  temper,  to  be  so  indiffer- 
ent to  a  hearty  wetting  as  myself. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  cried,  "  you  i7iust  put  on  that  beast  of 
yours — I  can't  get  wet,  for  all  the  horses  in  the  world." 

I  was  not  much  pleased  with  the  dictatorial  tone  of  this 
remark.  "  It  is  impossible,"  said  I,  "  especially  as  the  horse  is 
not  my  own,  and  seems  considerably  lamer  than  at  first;  but 
let  me  not  detain  you." 

"  Well  !  "  cried  Tyrrell,  in    a  raised  and   angry  voice,  which 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLE  MA  A'.  249 

pleased  me  still  less   than  his  former  remark  ;  "  but  how  I  am 
to. find  my  way,  if  I  leave  you  ?  " 

"  Keep  straight  on,"  said  I,  "for  a  mile  farther,  then  a  sign- 
post will  direct  you  to  the  left ;  after  a  short  time,  you  will  have 
a  steep  hill  to  descend,  at  the  bottom  of  which  is  a  large  pool, 
and  a  singularly  shaped  tree  ;  then  again,  keep  straight  on,  till 
you  pass  a  house  belonging  to  Mr.  Dawson " 

"  Hang  it,  Pelham,  make  haste  !  "  exclaimed  Tyrrell,  im- 
patiently, as  the  rain  began  now  to  descend  fast  and  heavy. 

"When  you  have  passed  that  house,"  I  resumed  coolly,  rather 
enjoying  his  petulance,  "you  must  bear  to  the  right  for  six  miles, 
and  you  will  be  at  Chester  Park  in  less  than  an  hour." 

Tyrrell  make  no  reply,  but  put  spurs  to  his  horse.  The  pat- 
tering rain  and  the  angry  heavens  soon  drowned  the  last  echoes 
of  the  receding  hoof-clang. 

For  myself,  I  looked  in  vain  for  a  tree ;  not  even  a  shrub  was 
to  be  found  ;  the  fields  lay  bare  on  either  side,  with  no  other 
partition  but  a  dead  hedge,  and  a  deep  dyke.  ''■Melius  fit  paten- 
tid,'^  etc.,  thought  I,  as  Horace  said,  and  Vincent  would  say  ; 
and  in  order  to  divert  my  thoughts  from  my  situation,  I  turned 
them  towards  my  diplomatic  success  with  Lord  Chester.  Pres- 
ently, for  I  think  scarcely  five  minutes  had  elapsed  since  Tyr- 
rell's departure,  a  horseman  passed  me  at  a  sharp  pace ;  the 
moon  was  hid  by  the  dense  cloud  ;  and  the  night,  thoughnot 
wholly  dark,  was  dim  and  obscured,  so-  that  I  could  only 
catch  the  outline  of  the  flitting  figure.  A  thrill  of  fear  crept 
over  me,  when  I  saw  that  it  was  enveloped  in  a  horse's  cloak. 
I  soon  rallied  : — "  There  are  more  cloaks  in  the  world  than 
one,"  said  I  to  myself;  "besides,  even  if  it  be  Tyrrell's  dodger, 
as  he  calls  him,  the  baronet  is  better  mounted  than  any  highway 
man  since  the  days  of  Du  Val ;  and  is  moreover,  strong  enough 
and  cunning  enough  to  take  admirable  care  of  himself."  With 
this  reflection  I  dismissed  the  occurrence  from  my  thoughts, 
and  once  more  returned  to  self-congratulations  upon  my  own  in- 
comparable genius.  "I  shall  now,"  I  thought,  "have  well 
earned  my  seat  in  Parliament:  Dawton  will  indisputably  be,  if 
not  the  prime,  the  principal  minister  in  rank  and  influence. 
He  cannot  fail  to  promote  me  for  his  own  sake,  as  well  as  mine  ; 
and  when  I  have  once  fairly  got  my  legs  in  St.  Stephen's,  I 
shall  soon  have  my  hands  in  office  :  '  power,'  says  some  one,  '  is 
a  snake  that  when  it  once  finds  a  hole  into  which  it  can  intro- 
duce its  head,  soon  manages  to  wriggle  in  the  rest  of  its  body.'  " 

With  such  meditations  I  endeavored  to  beguile  the  time,  and 
cheat  myself  into  forgetfulness  of  the  lameness  of  my  horse,  and 


250  FELHAM ;  OR, 

the  dripping  wetness  of  the  rider.  At  last  the  storm  began 
sullenly  to  subside  :  one  impetuous  torrent,  ten  fold  more  vio- 
/ent  than  those  that  had  preceded  it,  was  followed  by  a  moment- 
ary stillness,  which  was  again  broken  by  a  short  relapse  of  a 
less  formidable  severity,  and,  the  moment  it  ceased,  the  beauti- 
ful moon  broke  out,  the  cloud   rolled  heavily  away  and  the  sky 

shone  forth,  as  fair  and  smiling  as  Lady at  a  ball,  after  she 

has  been  beating  her  husband  at  home. 

But  at  that  instant,  or  perhaps  a  second  before  the  storm 
ceased,  I  thought  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  human  cry.  I  paused, 
and  my  heart  stood  still — I  could  have  heard  a  gnat  hum  :  the 
sound  was  not  repeated  ;  my  ear  caught  nothing  but  the  plash- 
ing of  the  rain-drops  from  the  dead  hedges,  and  the  murmur  of 
the  swollen  dykes,  as  the  water  pent  within  them  rolled  hur- 
riedly on.  By  and  by,  an  owl  came  suddenly  from  behind  me, 
and  screamed  as  it  flapped  across  my  path  ;  that,  too,  went 
rapidly  away  :  and  with  a  smile,  at  what  I  deemed  my  own 
fancy,  I  renewed  my  journey.  I  soon  came  to  the  precipitous 
descent  I  have  before  mentioned ;  I  dismounted,  for  safety, 
from  my  drooping  and  jaded  horse,  and  led  him  down  the  hill. 
At  a  distance  beyond  I  saw  something  dark  moving  on  the 
grass  which  bordered  the  road  ;  as  I  advanced,  it  started  forth 
from  the  shadow,  and  fled  rapidly  before  me,  in  the  moonshine 
— it  was  a  riderless  horse.  A  chilling  foreboding  seized  me  :  I 
looked  round  for  some  weapon,  such  as  the  hedge  might  afford ; 
and  finding  a  strong  stick  of  tolerable  weight  and  thickness,  I 
proceeded  more  cautiously,  but  more  fearlessly  than  before. 
As  I  wound  down  the  hill,  the  moonlight  fell  upon  the  remark- 
able and  lonely  tree  I  had  observed  in  the  morning.  Bare,  wan, 
and  giant-like,  as  it  rose  amidst  the  surrounding  waste,  it  bor- 
rowed even  a  more  startling  and  ghostly  appearance  from  the 
cold  and  lifeless  moonbeams  which  fell  around  and  upon  it  like 
a  shroud.  The  retreating  steed  I  had  driven  before  me,  paused 
by  this  tree.  I  hastened  my  steps,  as  if  by  an  involuntary 
impulse,  as  well  as  the  enfeebled  animal  I  was  leading  would 
allow  me,  and  discovered  a  horseman  galloping  across  the  waste 
at  full  speed.  The  ground  over  which  he  passed  was  steeped 
in  the  moonshine,  and  I  saw  the  long  and  disguising  cloak,  in 
which  he  was  enveloped,  as  clearly  as  by  the  light  of  day.  I 
paused  :  and  as  I  was  following  him  with  my  looks,  my  eye  fell 
upon  some  obscure  object  by  the  left  side  of  the  pool.  I  threw 
my  horse's  rein  over  the  hedge,  and  firmly  grasping  my  stick, 
hastened  to  the  spot.  As  I  approached  the  object,  I  perceived 
that  it  was  a  human  figure  ;  it  was  lying  still  and  motionless ; 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  251 

the  limbs  were  half  immersed  in  the  water — the  face  was 
turned  upwards — the  side  and  throat  were  wet  with  a  deep  red 
stain — it  was  of  blood  :  the  thin,  dark  hairs  of  the  head  were 
clotted  together  over  a  frightful  and  disfiguring  contusion.  I 
bent  over  the  face  in  a  shuddering  and  freezing  silence.  It 
was  the  countenance  of  Sir  John  Tyrrell ! 


CHAPTER  LXV. 


-Marry,  he  was  dead — 


And  the  right  valiant  Banquo  walked  too  late  : 
Whom  you  may  say,  if  it  please  you,  Fleance  killed, 
For  Fleance  fled  \— Macbeth. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing,  even  to  the  hardiest  nerves,  to  find  our- 
selves suddenly  alone  with  the  dead.  How  much  more  so,  if 
we  have,  but  a  breathing  interval  before,  moved  and  conversed 
with  a  warm  and  living  likeness  of  the  motionless  clay  before 
us ! 

And  this  was  the  man  from  whom  I  had  parted  in  coldness 
— almost  in  anger — at  a  word — a  breath  !  I  took  up  the  heavy 
hand — it  fell  from  my  grasp ;  and  as  it  did  so,  I  thought  a 
change  passed  over  the  livid  countenance.  I  was  deceived  ;  it 
was  but  a  light  cloud  flitting  over  the  moon  ; — it  rolled  away, 
and  the  placid  and  guiltless  light  shone  over  that  scene  of  dread 
and  blood,  making  more  wild  and  chilling  the  eternal  contrast 
of  earth  and  heaven — man  and  his  Maker — passion  and  immu- 
tability— death  and  eternal  life. 

But  that  was  not  a  moment  of  reflection — a  thousand  thoughts 
hurried  upon  me,  and  departed  as  swift  and  confusedly  as  they 
came.  My  mind  seemed  a  jarring  and  benighted  chaos  of  the 
faculties  which  were  its  elements ;  and  I  had  stood  several 
minutes  over  the  corpse  before,  by  a  vigorous  effort,  I  shook  off 
the  stupor  that  possessed  me,  and  began  to  think  of  the  course 
that  it  now  behoved  me  to  pursue. 

The  house  I  had  noted  in  the  morning  was,  I  knew,  within  a 
few  minutes'  walk  of  the  spot ;  but  it  belonged  to  Dawson,  upon 
whom  the  first  weight  of  my  suspicions  rested.  I  called  to 
mind  the  disreputable  character  of  that  man,  and  the  still  more 
daring  and  hardened  one  of  his  companion  Thornton.  I  re- 
membered the  reluctance  of  the  deceased  to  accompany  them, 
and  the  well-grounded  reason  he  assigned  ;  and,  my  suspicions 
amounting  to  certainty,  I  resolved  rather  to  proceed  to  Chester 


252  PELHAM;  OR, 

Park,  and  there  give  the  alarm,  than  to  run  the  unnecessary 
risk  of  interrupting  the  murderers  in  the  very  lair  of  their  retreat. 
And  yet,  thought  I,  as  I  turned  slowly  away,  how  if  they  were 
the  villains,  is  the  appearance  and  flight  of  the  disguised  horse- 
man to  be  accounted  for  ? 

Then  flashed  upon  my  recollection  all  that  Tyrrell  had  said 
of  the  dogged  pursuit  of  that  mysterious  person,  and  the  cir- 
cumstance of  his  having  passed  me  upon  the  road  so  imme- 
diately after  Tyrrell  had  quitted  me.  These  reflections  (asso- 
ciated with  a  name  that  I  did  not  dare  breathe  even  to  myself, 
although  I  could  not  suppress  a  suspicion  which  accounted  at 
once  for  the  pursuit,  and  even  for  the  deed,)  made  me  waver  in, 
and  almost  renounce,  my  former  condemnation  of  Thornton  and 
his  friend  :  and  by  the  time  I  reached  the  white  gate  and  dwarf- 
ish avenue  which  led  to  Dawson's  house,  I  resolved,  at  all 
events,  to  halt  at  the  solitary  mansion,  and  mark  the  effect  my 
information  would  cause. 

A  momentary  fear  for  my  own  safety  came  across  me,  but  was 
as  instantly  dismissed  : — for  even  supposing  the  friends  were 
guilty,  still  it  would  be  no  object  to  them  to  extend  their  re- 
morseless villany  to  me  ;  and  I  knew  that  I  could  sufficiently 
command  my  own  thoughts  to  prevent  any  suspicion  I  might 
form,  from  mounting  to  my  countenance,  or  discovering  itself  in 
my  manner. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  upper  story ;  it  burned  still  and 
m.otionless.  How  holy  seemed  the  tranquillity  of  life,  contrasted 
with  the  forced  and  fearful  silence  of  the  death  scene  I  had  just 
witnessed !  I  rang  twice  at  the  door — no  one  came  to  answer 
my  summons,  but  the  light  in  the  upper  window  moved  hurriedly 
to  and  fro. 

"  They  are  coming,"  said  I  to  myself.  No  such  thing — the 
casement  above  was  opened — I  looked  up,  and  discovered,  to  my 
infinite  comfort  and  delight,  a  blunderbuss  protruded  eight 
inches  out  of  the  window  in  a  direct  line  with  my  head ;  I  re- 
ceded close  to  the  wall  with  no  common  precipitation. 

"  Get  away,  you  rascal,"  said  a  gruff,  but  trembling  voice, 
"  or  I'll  blow  your  brains  out." 

"  My  good  sir,"  I  replied,  still  keeping  my  situation,  "  I  come 
on  urgent  business,  either  to  Mr.  Thornton  or  Mr.  Dawson  ;  and 
you  had  better,  therefore,  if  the  delay  is  not  very  inconvenient, 
defer  the  honor  you  offer  me,  till  I  have  delivered  my  message." 

"  Master  and  'Squire  Thornton  are  not  returned  from  New- 
market, and  we  cannot  let  any  one  in  till  they  come  home,"  re- 
plied  the  voice,  in  a  tone  somewhat  mollified  by  my  rational  re- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN,  253 

monstrance  ;  and  while  I  was  deliberating  what  rejoinder  to 
make,  a  rough,  red  head,  like  Liston's  in  a  farce,  poked  itself 
cautiously  out  under  cover  of  the  blunderbuss,  and  seemed  to 
reconnoitre  my  horse  and  myself.  Presently  another  head,  but 
attired  in  the  more  civilized  gear  of  a  cap  and  flowers,  peeped 
over  the  first  person's  left  shoulder ;  the  view  appeared  to  re- 
assure them  both. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  female,  "  my  husband  and  Mr.  Thornton  are 
not  returned ;  and  we  have  been  so  much  alarmed  of  late,  by 
an  attack  on  the  house,  that  I  cannot  admit  any  one  till  their 
return." 

"  Madam,"  I  replied,  reverently  dofiing  my  hat,  "  I  do  not 
like  to  alarm  you  by  mentioning  the  information  I  should  have 
given  to  Mr.  Dawson  ;  only  oblige  me  by  telling  them,  on  their 
return,  to  look  beside  the  pool  on  the  Common  ;  they  will  then 
do  as  best  pleases  them." 

Upon  this  speech,  which  certainly  was  of  no  agreeable  tend- 
ency, the  blunderbuss  palpitated  so  violently,  that  I  thought  it 
highly  imprudent  to  tarry  any  longer  in  so  perilous  a  vicinity  ; 
accordingly,  I  made  the  best  of  my  way  out  of  the  avenue,  and 
once  more  resumed  my  road  to  Chester  Park. 

I  arrived  there  at  length  ;  the  gentlemen  were  still  in  the 
dining-room,  I  sent  out  for  Lord  Chester,  and  communicated 
the  scene  I  had  witnessed,  and  the  cause  of  my  delay. 

"  What !  Brown  Bob  lamed  ?  "  said  he,  "  ancl  Tyrrell — poor — 
poor  fellow,  how  shocking  !  We  must  send  instantly.  Here, 
John  !  Tom  !  Wilson  !  "  and  his  lordship  shouted  and  rang  the 
bell  in  an  indescribable  agitation. 

The  under  butler  appeared,  and  Lord  Chester  began — "  My 
head  groom — Sir  John  Tyrrell  is  murdered — violent  sprain  in 
off  leg — send  lights  with  Mr.  Pelham — poor  gentleman — an 
express  instantly  to  Dr.  Physicon — Mr.  Pelham  will  tell  you 
all — Brown  Bob — his  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear — what  shall  be 
done  ? "  and  with  this  coherent  and  explanatory  harangue,  the 
marquis  sank  down  in  his  chair  in  a  sort  of  hysteric. 

The  under  butler  looked  at  him  in  suspicious  bewilderment. 
"  Come,"  said  I,  "  I  will  explain  what  his  lordship  means  ;  " 
and,  taking  the  man  out  of  the  room,  I  gave  him,  in  brief,  the 
necessary  particulars.  I  ordered  a  fresh  horse  for  myself,  and 
four  horsemen  to  accompany  me.  While  these  were  preparing, 
the  news  was  rapidly  spreading,  and  I  was  soon  surrounded, 
by  the  whole  house.  Many  of  the  gentlemen  wished  to  accom- 
pany me  ;  and  Lord  Chester,  who  had  at  last  recovered  from 
his  stupor,  insisted  upon  heading  the    search.     We  set   off,   to 


254  PELHAM;  OR, 

the  number  of  fourteen,  and  soon  arrived  at  Dawson's  house  -. 
the  light  in  the  upper  room  was  still  burning.  We  rang,  and 
after  a  brief  pause,  Thornton  himself  opened  the  door  to  us. 
He  looked  pale  and  agitated, 

"  How  shocking !  "  he  said  directly — "we  are  only  just  re 
turned  from  the  spot." 

"  Acconpsj'y  us,  Mr,  Thornton,"  said  I,  sternly,  and  fixing  my 
eye  upon  him. 

"  Certainly,"  was  his  immediate  answer,  without  testifying 
any  confusion — "  I  will  fetch  my  hat."  He  went  into  the 
house  for  a  moment. 

''  Do  you  suspect  these  people  ?  "  whispered  Lord  Chester. 

"  Not  suspect,"  said  I,  "  but  doubt'' 

We  proceeded  down  the  avenue  :  "  Where  is  Mr,  Dawson  ?  " 
said  I  to  Thornton, 

"  Oh,  within  !  "  answered  Thornton.     "  Shall  I  fetch  him  ?  " 

"  Do,"  was  my  brief  reply. 

Thornton  was  absent  some  minntes ;  when  he  reappeared, 
Dawson  was  following  him.  "  Poor  fellow,"  said  he  to  me  in  a 
low  tone — "  he  was  so  shocked  by  the  sight,  that  he  is  still  all 
in  a  panic ;  besides,  as  you  will  see,  he  is  half  drunk  still," 

I  made  no  answer,  but  looked  narrowly  at  Dawson ;  he  was 
evidently,  as  Thornton  said,  greatly  intoxicated  ;  his  eyes  swam, 
and  his  feet  staggered  as  he  approached  us  ;  yet,  through  all 
the  natural  effects  of  drunkenness,  he  seemed  nervous  and 
frightened.  This,  however,  might  be  the  natural  (and  conse- 
quently innocent)  effect  of  the  mere  sight  of  an  object  so  full 
of  horror ;  and,  accordingly,  I  laid  little  stress  upon  it. 

We  reached  the  fatal  spot :  the  body  seemed  perfectly  un- 
moved. "  Why,"  said  I,  apart  to  Thornton,  while  all  the  rest 
were  crowding  fearfully  round  the  corpse — "  why  did  you  not 
take  the  body  within  .^  " 

"  I  was  going  to  return  here  with  our  sen'^ant  for  that  pur- 
pose," answered  the  gambler;  "for  poor  Dawson  was  both  too 
drunk  and  too  nervous  to  give  me  any  assistance." 

"  And  how  came  it,"  I  rejoined,  eyeing  him  searchingly,  "  that 
you  and  your  friend  had  not  returned  home  when  I  called  there, 
although  you  had  both  long  since  passed  me  on  the  road,  and  I 
had  never  overtaken  you .-'  " 

Thornton,  without  any  hesitation,  replied — "  Because,  during 
the  violence  of  the  shower,  we  cut  across  the  fields  to  an  old  shed, 
which  we  recollected,  and  we  remained  there  till  the  rain  had 
ceaserl," 

"  They  are  probably  innocent,"   thought  I — and  I  turned  to 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  255 

look  once  more  at  the  body,  which  our  companions  had  now 
raised.  There  was  upon  the  head  a  strong  contusion,  as  if  in- 
flicted by  some  blunt  and  heavy  instrument.  The  fingers  of  the 
right  hand  were  deeply  gashed,  and  one  of  them  almost  dissev- 
ered :  the  unfortunate  man  had,  in  all  probability,  grasped  the 
sharp  weapon  from  which  his  other  wounds  proceeded  ;  these 
were  one  wide  cut  along  the  throat,  and  another  in  the  side ; 
either  of  them  would  have  occasioned  his  death. 

In  loosening  the  clothes,  another  wound  was  discovered,  but 
apparently  of  a  less  fatal  nature  ;  and  in  lifting  the  body,  the 
broken  blade  of  a  long  sharp  instrument,  like  a  case-knife, 
was  discovered.  It  was  the  opinion  of  the  surgeon,  who  after- 
wards examined  the  body,  that  the  blade  had  been  broken  by 
coming  in  contact  with  one  of  the  rib-bones  ;  and  it  was  by  this 
that  he  accounted  for  the  slightness  of  the  last-mentioned  wound. 
I  looked  carefully  among  the  fern  and  long  grass,  to  see  if  I 
could  discover  any  other  token  of  the  murderer  :  I'hornton  as- 
sisted me.  At  the  distance  of  some  feet  from  the  body,  I  thought 
I  perceived  something  glitter.  I  hastened  to  the  place,  and 
picked  up  a  miniature.  I  was  just  going  to  cry  out,  when 
Thornton  whispered — "  Hush !  I  know  the  picture  ;  it  is  as  I  sus- 
pected ! " 

An  icy  thrill  ran  through  my  ver}'  heart.  With  a  desperate 
but  trembling  hand,  I  cleansed  from  the  picture  the  blood,  in 
which,  notwithstanding  its  distance  from  the  corpse,  the  greater 
part  of  it  was  bathed.  I  looked  upon  the  features  ;  they  were 
those  of  a  young  and  singularly  beautiful  female.  I  recognized 
them  not :  I  turned  to  the  other  side  of  the  miniature  ;  upon  it 
were  braided  two  locks  of  hair — one  was  the  long,  dark  ringlet 
of  a  woman,  the  other  was  of  alight  auburn.  Beneath  were  four 
letters.  I  looked  eagerly  at  them.  *'  My  eyes  are  dim,"  said  I, 
in  a  low  tone  to  Thorton,  "I  cannot  trace  the  initials." 

"  But  /  can,"  replied  he,  in  the  same  w'hispered  key,  but  with 
a  savage  exultation,  which  made  my  heart  stand  still  :  "  they 
are  G.  D. ,  R.  G. ;  they  are  initials  of  Gertrude  Douglas  and 
Reginald  Glanville.'' 

1  looked  up  at  the  speaker — our  eyes  met — I  grasped  his  hand 
vehemently.  He  understood  me.  "Put  it  up,"  said  he  ;  '' wc 
will  keep  the  secret."  All  this,  so  long  in  the  recital,  passed  in 
the  rapidity  of  a  moment. 

"  Have  you  found  anything  there,  Pelham  ?  "  shouted  one  of 
our  companions. 

"  No,"  cried  I,  thnisting  the  miniature  in  my  bosom,  and  turn- 
ing unconcernedly  away. 


=56  PELHAM;  OK, 

We  carried  the  corpse  to  Dawson's  house.  The  poor  wife 
was  in  fits.  We  heard  her  scream  as  we  laid  the  body  upon  a 
t.'ible  in  the  parlor. 

"  What  more  can  be  done  ? "  said  Lord  Chester. 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  general  answer.  No  excitement  makes 
people  insensible  to  the  chance  of  catching  cold ! 

"  Let  us  go  home  then,  and  send  to  the  nearest  magistrate," 
exclaimed  our  host :  and  this  proposal  required  no  repetition. 

On  our  way,  Chester  said  to  me,  "  That  fellow  Dawson  looked- 
devilish  uneasy — don't  you  still  suspect  him  and  his  friend?" 

"  /  do  not  1^'  answered  I,  emphatically. 


CHAPTER  LXVL 


And  now  I'm  in  the  world  alone, 

■SIS'  '5j\  3p  ■3lf  ■Sp  ^ 

But  why  for  others  should  I  groan, 

When  none  will  sigh  for  me  ? — Byron. 

The  whole  country  was  in  confusion  at  the  news  of  the  mur- 
der. All  the  myrmidons  of  justice  were  employed  in  the  most 
active  research  for  the  murderers.  Some  few  persons  were 
taken  up  on  suspicion,  but  were  as  instantly  discharged. 
Thornton  and  Dawson  underwent  a  long:  and  riecorous  examina- 
tion ;  but  no  single  tittle  of  evidence  against  them  appeared  : 
they  were  consequently  dismissed.  The  only  suspicious  cir- 
cumstance against  them,  was  their  delay  on  the  road  :  but  the 
cause  given,  the  same  as  Thornton  had  at  first  assigned  to  me, 
was  probable  and  natural.  .  The  shed  was  indicated,  and,  as  if 
to  confirm  Thornton's  account,  a  glove  belonging  to  that  person 
was  found  there.  To  crown  all,  my  own  evidence,  in  which  I 
was  constrained  to  mention  the  circumstance  of  the  muffled 
horseman  having  passed  me  on  the  road,  and  being  found  by 
me  on  the  spot  itself,  threw  the  whole  weight  of  suspicion  upon 
that  man,  whoever  he  might  be. 

All  attempts,  however,  to  discover  him  were  in  vain.  It  was 
ascertained  that  a  man,  muffled  in  a  cloak,  was  seen  at  Newmar- 
ket, but  not  remarkably  observed  ;  it  was  also  discovered,  that 
a  person  so  habited  had  put  up  a  grey  horse  to  bait  in  one  of 
the  inns  at  Newmarket;  but  in  the  throng  of  strangers  neither 
the  horse  nor  its  owner  had  drawn  down  any  particular  remark. 

On  furthur  inquiry,  testimony  differed ;  y^?/r  or  yfz'^  inen,  in 
cloaks,  had  left   their  horses  at  the  stables  ;  one  ostler  changed 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN. 


2S7 


the  color  of  the  steed  to  brown,  a  second  to  black,  a  third  de- 
posed that  the  gentlemen  was  remarkably  tall,  and  the  waiter 
swore  solemnly  he  had  given  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water  to  an 
unked-\ooVvt\^  gentleman,  in  a  cloak,  who  was  remarkably  short. 
In  fine,  no  material  point  could  be  proved,  and  though  the  ofii- 
cers  were  still  employed  in  active  search,  they  could  trace  noth- 
ing that  promised  a  speedy  discovery. 

As  for  myself,  as  soon  as  I  decently  could,  I  left  Chester 
Park,  with  a  most  satisfactory  despatch  in  my  pocket,  from  its 
possessor  to  Lord  Dawton,  and  found  myself  on  the  road  to 
London. 

Alas !  how  different  were  my  thoughts,  how  changed  the 
temper  of  my  mind,  since  I  had  last  traveled  that  road  !  Then 
I  was  full  of  hope,  energ\',  ambition — of  interest  for  Reginald 
Granville — of  adoration  for  his  sister ;  and  no7u,  I  leaned  back 
listless  and  dispirited,  without  a  single  feeling  to  gladden  the 
restless  and  feverish  despair  which,  ever  since  that  night,  had 
possessed  me  !  What  was  ambition  henceforth  to  me  t  The 
most  selfish  amongst  us  must  have  some  human  being  to  whom 
to  refer — with  whom  to  connect,  to  associate,  to  treasure,  the 
triumphs  and  gratifications  of  self.  Where  now  for  my  heart 
was  such  a  being?  My  earliest  friend,  for  whom  my  esteem 
was  the  greater  for  his  sorrows,  my  interest  the  keener  for  his 
mystery,  Reginald  Glanville,  was  a  murderer !  a  dastardly,  a 
barbarous  felon,  whom  the  chance  of  an  instant  might  convict ! 
— and  she — she,  the  only  woman  in  the  world  I  had  ever  really 
loved — who  ever  pierced  the  thousand  folds  of  my  ambitious 
and  scheming  heart — she  was  the  sister  of  the  assassin  ! 

Then  came  over  my  mind  the  savage  and  exulting  eye  of. 
Thornton,  when  it  read  the  damning  record  of  Glanville's 
guilt ;  and  in  spite  of  my  horror  at  the  crnne  of  my  former 
friend,  I  trembled  for  his  safety ;  nor  was  I  satisfisd  with  my- 
self at  my  prevarication  as  a  witness.  It  was  true  that  I  had 
told  the  truth,  but  I  had  not  told  all  the  truth  ;  and  my  heart 
swelled  proudly  and  bitterly  against  the  miniature  which  1  still 
concealed  in  my  bosom. 

To  save  a  criminal,  in  whose  safety  I  was  selfishly  concerned, 
I  felt  that  I  had  tampered  with  my  honor,  paltered  with  the 
truth,  and  broken  what  justice,  not  over-harshly,  deemed  a  per- 
emptory and  inviolable  duty. 

It  was  with  a  heightened  pulse,  and  burning  checks,  that  I 
entered  London;  before  midnight  I  was  in  a  high  fever;  they 
sent  for  the  vultures  of  physic — I  was  bled  copiously — I  was 
kept  quiet  in  bed  for  six  days ;  at  the  end  of  that  time,  my  con- 


258  PELHAM ;  OR, 

stitution  and  youth  restored  me.  I  took  up  one  of  the  news- 
jDapers  listlessly  ;  Glanville's  name  struck  me  ;  I  read  the  para- 
graph which  contained  it — it  was  a  high-flown  and  fustian 
panegyric  on  his  genius  and  promise.  I  turned  to  another  col- 
umn :  it  contained  a  long  speech  he  had  the  night  before  made 
in  the  House  of  Commons. 

"  Can  such  things  be  ?"  thought  I ;  yea,  and  thereby  hangs  a 
secret  and  an  anomaly  in  the  human  heart.  A  man  may  com- 
mit the  greatest  of  crimes,  and  (if  no  other  succeed  to  it)  it 
changes  not  the  current  of  his  being ;  to  all  the  world — to  all 
intents — for  all  objects,  he  may  be  the  same.  He  may  equally 
serve  his  country — equally  benefit  his  friends — be  generous — 
brave — benevolent,  all  that  he  was  before.  One  crime,  how- 
ever heinous,  does  not  necessarily  cause  a  revolution  in  the 
system — it  is  only  the  perpetual  course  of  sins,  vices,  follies, 
hovvever  insignificant  they  may  seem,  which  alters  the  nature 
and  hardens  the  heart. 

My  mother  was  out  of  town  when  I  returned  there.  They 
had  written  to  her  during  my  illness,  and  while  I  was  yet  mus- 
ing over  the  day's  journal,  a  letter  from  her  was  put  into  my 
hand.     I  transcribe  it. 

"  My  Dearest  Henry, 

"  How  dreadfully  uneasy  I  am  about  you  !  write  tome  directly. 
I  would  come  to  town  myself,  but  am  staying  with  dear  Lady 
Dawton,  who  will  not  hear  of  my  going ;  and  I  cannot  offend 
her  for  your  sake.  By-the-bye,  why  have  you  not  called  upon 
Lord  Dawton  ?  but,  I  forgot,  you  have  been  ill.  My  dear,  dear 
child,  I  am  wretched  about  you,  and  how  pale  your  illness  will 
make  you  look  !  just,  too,  as  the  best  part  of  the  season  is  com- 
ing on.  How  unlucky  !  Pray,  don't  wear  a  black  cravat  when 
you  next  call  on  Lady  Roseville  ;  but  choose  a  very  fine  baptiste 
one — it  will  make  you  look  rather  delicate  than  ill.  What  phy- 
sician do  you  have  ?  I  hope,  in  God,  that  it  is  Sir  Henry  Hal- 
ford.  I  shall  be  too  miserable  if  it  is  not.  I  am  sure  no  one  can 
conceive  the  anguish  I  suffer.  Your  father,  too,  poor  man,  has 
been  laid  up  with  the  gout  for  the  last  three  days.  Keep  up 
your  spirits  my  dearest  child,  and  get  some  light  books  to  entertain 
you  :  but,  pray,  as  soon  as  you  are  well,  do  go  to  Lord  Dawton 's 
— he  is  dying  to  see  you  ;  but  be  sure  not  to  catch  cold.  How 
did  you  like  Lady  Chester  ?  Pray  take  the  greatest  care  of  your- 
self, and  write  soon  to 

"  Your  wretched,  and  most  affectionate  mother, 

"  F.  P." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  259 


a 


P.S.     How  dreadfully    shocking  about  that  poor  Sir  John 
Tyrrell !  " 

I  tossed  the  letter  from  me.  Heaven  pardon  me  if  the  mis- 
anthropy of  my  mood  made  me  less  grateful  for  the  maternal  so- 
licitude than  I  should  otherwise  have  been. 

I  took  up  one  of  the  numerous  books  with  which  my  table  was 
covered  ;  it  was  a  worldly  work  of  one  of  the  French  reasoners  ;  it 
gave  a  new  turn  to  my  thoughts — my  mind  reverted  to  its  former 
projects  of  ambition.  Who  does  not  know  what  active  citizens 
private  misfortune  makes  us  1  The  public  is  like  the  pools  of 
Bethesda — we  all  hasten  there,  to  plunge  in  and  rid  ourselves 
of  our  afflictions. 

I  drew  my  portfolio  to  me,  and  wrote  to  Lord  Dawton.  Three 
hours  after  I  had  sent  the  note,  he  called  upon  me.  I  gave  him 
Lord  Chester's  letter,  but  he  had  already  received  from  that  no- 
bleman a  notification  of  my  success.  He  was  profuse  in  his 
compliments  and  thanks. 

"And,  do  you  know,"  added  the  statesman,  "that  you  have 
quite  made  a  conquest  of  Lord  Guloseton  t  He  speaks  of  you 
publicly  in  the  highest  terms  :  I  wish  we  could  get  him  and  his 
votes.  We  must  be  strengthened,  my  dear  Pelham  ;  everything 
depends  on  the  crisis." 

"  Are  you  certain  of  the  cabinet  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  not  yet  publicly  announced,  but  it  is  fully  known 
amongst  us,  who  comes  in,  and  who  stays  out.  I  am  to  have 
the  place  of ." 

"  I  congratulate  your  lordship  from  my  heart.  What  post  do 
you  design  for  me  ?  " 

Lord  Dawton  changed  countenance.  "  Why — really — Pelham, 
we  have  not  yet  filled  up  the  lesser  appointments,  but  you  shall 
be  well  remembered — well,  my  dear  Pelham — be  sure  of  it." 

I  looked  at  the  noble  speaker  with  a  glance  which,  I  flatter 
myself,  is  peculiar  to  me.  Is,  thought  I,  the  embrjo  minister 
playing  upon  me  as  upon  one  of  his  dependent  tools  ?  Let  him 
beware !     The  anger  of  the  moment  passed  away. 

"  Lord  Dawton,"  said  I,  "one  word,  and  I  have  done  discuss- 
ing my  claims  for  the  present.  Do  you  mean  to  place  me  in 
Parliament  as  soon  as  you  are  in  the  cabinet  ?  What  else  you 
intend  for  me,  I  question  not." 

"  Yes,  assuredly,  Pelham.     How  can  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

"  Enough  ! — and  now  read  this  letter  from  France." 


26o  .    PELHAM;  OK, 

Two  days  after  my  interview  with  Lord  Dawton,  as  I  was  riding 
leisurely  through  the  Green  Park,  in  no  very  bright  and  social 
mood,  one  of  the  favored  carriages,  whose  owners  are  permitted 
to  say,  '"'■  Hie  iter  est  nobis"  overtook  me.  A  sweet  voice  ordered 
the  coachman  to  stop,  and  then  addressed  itself  to  me. 

"  What !  the  hero  of  Chester  Park  returned,  without  having 
once  narrated  his  adventures  to  me  ?  " 

"  Beautiful  Lady  Roseville,"  said  I,  "  I  plead  guilty  of  negli- 
gence— not  treason.  I  forgot,  it  is  true,  to  appear  before  you, 
but  I  forget  not  the  devotion  of  my  duty  now  that  I  behold  you. 
Command,  and  I  obey." 

"  See,  Ellen,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  turning  to  a  bending  and 
blushing  countenance  beside  her,  which  I  then  first  perceived — 
"  see  what  it  is  to  be  a  knight-errant ;  even  his  language  is 
worthy  of  Amadis  of  Gaul — but — (again  addressing  me)  your 
adventures  are  really  too  shocking  a  subject  to  treat  lightly. 
We  lay  our  serious  orders  on  you  to  come  to  our  castle  this  night; 
we  shall  be  alone." 

"  Willingly  shall  I  repair  to  your  bower,  fayre  ladie  ;  but  tell 
me,  I  beseech  you,  how  many  persons  are  signified  in  the  word 
'alone?'" 

"  Why,"  answered  Lady  Roseville,  '•  I  fear  we  may  have  a  few 
people  with  us ;  but  I  think,  Ellen,  we  may  promise  our  cheva- 
lier that  the  number  shall  not  exceed  twelve." 

I  bowed  and  rode  on.  What  worlds  would  I  not  have  given 
to  have  touched  the  hand  of  the  countess's  companion,  though 
only  for  an  instant.  But — and  that  fearful  but,  chilled  me,  like 
an  icebolt,  I  put  spurs  to  my  horse,  and  dashed  fiercely  on- 
wards. There  was  rather  a  high  wind  stirring,  and  I  bent  my 
face  from  it,  so  as  scarcely  to  see  the  course  of  ray  spirited  and 
impatient  horse. 

"  What  ho,  sir  ! — what  ho !  "  cried  a  shrill  voice — "  for  Heaven's 
sake,  don't  ride  over  me  before  d\vi\\&x,  whatever  you  do  after  it ! " 

I  pulled  up.  "  Ah,  Lord  Guloseton  !  how  happy  I  am  to  see 
you  ;  pray  forgive  my  blindness,  and  my  horse's  stupidity." 

"  'Tis  an  ill  wind,"  answered  the  noble  gourmand,  "  which 
blows  nobody  good  ; — an  excellent  proverb,  the  veracity  of  whicli 
is  daily  attested ;  for  however  unpleasant  a  keen  wind  may  be, 
there  is  no  doubt  of  its  being  a  marvellous  whetter  of  that  great- 
est of  Heaven's  blessings — an  appetite.  Little,  however,  did 
I  accept  that  besides  blowing  me  a  relish  for  my  saute  defoiegras, 
it  would  also  blow  me  one  who  might,  probably,  be  a  partaker 
of  my  enjoyment.  Honor  me  with  your  company  at  dinner  to- 
day." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GEXTLEMA.V.  2G1 

"  What  saloon  will  you  dine  in,  my  Lord  Lucullus  ?  "  said  I, 
in  illusion  to  the  custom  of  the  epicure,  by  whose  name  I  ad- 
dressed him. 

"  The  saloon  of  Diana,"  replied  Guloseton — "  for  she  must 
certainly  have  shot  the  fine  buck  of  which  Lord  H.  sent  me  the 
haunch  that  we  shall  have  to-day.  It  is  the  true  old  Meynell 
breed.  I  ask  you  not  to  meet  Mr.  So-and-so  and  Lord  What- 
d'ye-call-him  :  I  ask  you  to  meet  a  saute  defoiegras,  and  a  haunch 
of  venison." 

"  I  will  most  certainly  pay  them  my  respects.  Never  did  I 
know  before  how  far  things  were  better  company  than  persons. 
Your  lordship  has  taught  me  that  great  truth." 

"  God  bless  me  !  "  cried  Guloseton,  with  an  air  of  vexation, 
*'  here  comes  the  Duke  of  Stilton,  a  horrid  person,  who  told  me 
the  other  day,  at  my  petit  diner,  when  I  apologized  to  him  for 
some  strange  error  of  my  artistes,  by  which  common  vinegar  had 
been  substituted  for  Chili — who  told  me — what  think  you  he 
told  me  ?  You  cannot  guess, — he  told  me,  forsooth,  that  he  did 
not  care  what  he  ate  ;  and,  for  his  part,  he  could  make  a  very 
good  dinner  off  a  beef-steak  !  Why  the  deuce,  then,  did  he 
come  and  dine  with  me?  Could  he  have  said  anything  more 
cutting  ?  Imagine  my  indignation,  when  I  looked  round  my 
table  and  saw  so  many  good  things  tlirown  away  on  such  an 
idiot." 

Scarcely  was  the  last  word  out  of  the  gourmand's  mouth  before 
the  noble  personage  so  designated  joined  us.  It  amused  me  to 
see  Guloseton's  contempt  (which  he  scarcely  took  the  pains  to 
suppress)  of  a  person  whom  all  Europe  honored,  and  his  evident 
weariness  of  a  companion,  whose  society  every  one  else  would 
have  coveted  as  the  summufn  bonujn  of  worldly  distinction.  As 
for  me,  feeling  anything  but  social,  I  soon  left  the  ill-matched 
pair,  and  rode  into  the  other  park. 

Just  as  I  entered  it,  I  perceived,  on  a  dull,  yet  cross-looking 
pony,  Mr.  Wormwood,  of  bitter  memory.  Although  we  had  not 
met  since  our  mutual  sojourn  at  Sir  Lionel  Garrett's,  and  were 
then  upon  very  cool  terms  of  acquaintance,  he  seemed  resolved 
to  recognize  and  claim  me. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  he,  with  a  ghastly  smile,  "  I  am  rejoiced 
once  more  to  see  you  ;  bless  me,  how  pale  you  look  !  I  heard 
you  had  been  very  ill.  Pray,  have  you  been  yet  to  that  man 
who  professes  to  cure  consumption  in  the  worst  stages  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  he  read  me  two  or  three  letters  of  reference 
from  the  patients  he  had  cured.  His  last,  he  said,  was  a  gen- 
tleman very  far  gone — a  Mr.  Wormwood." 


262  PELHAM ;  OR, 

"  Oh,  you  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,"  said  the  cynic,  coldly — 
"  but  pray  do  tell  me  about  that  horrid  affair  at  Chester  Park. 
How  disagreeable  it  must  have  been  to  you  to  be  taken  up  on 
on  suspicion  of  the  murder  I " 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  haughtily,  "what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

•'  Oh,  you  were  not — wer'n't  you  ?  Well,  I  always  thought 
it  unlikely  ;  but  every  one  says  so " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  I  rejoined,  "  how  long  is  it  since  you  have 
minded  what  every  body  says  ?  If  I  were  so  foolish,  I  should 
not  be  riding  with  you  now;  but /have  always  said  in  contra- 
diction to  every  body,  and  even  in  spite  of  being  universally 
laughed  at  for  my  singular  opinion,  that  you,  my  dear  Mr,  Worm- 
wood, were  by  no  means  silly,  nor  ignorant,  nor  insolent,  nor  in- 
trusive ;  that  you  were,  on  the  contrary,  a  very  decent  author,  and 
a  very  good  sort  of  man  ;  and  that  you  were  so  benevolent,  that 
you  daily  granted,  to  some  one  or  other,  the  greatest  happiness 
in  your  power  :  it  is  a  happiness,  I  am  now  about  to  enjoy,  and 
it  consists  in  wishing  you  '•goodbye!'''  And  without  waiting 
for  Mr.  Wormwood's  answer,  I  gave  the  rein  to  my  horse,  and 
was  soon  lost  among  the  crowd,  which  had  now  begun  to  assem- 
ble. 

Hyde  Park  is  a  stupid  place.  The  English  of  the  fashionable 
world  make  business  an  enjoyment,  and  enjoyment  a  business  : 
they  are  born  without  a  smile ;  they  rove  about  public  places 
like  so  many  easterly  winds — cold,  sharp,  and  cutting  ;  or  like  a 
group  of  fogs  on  a  frosty  day,  sent  out  of  his  hall  by  Boreas,  for 
the  express  purpose  of  looking  black  at  one  another.  When  they 
ask  you,  "  how  you  do,"  you  would  think  they  were  measuring 
the  length  of  your  coffin.  They  are  ever,  it  is  true,  laboring  to 
be  agreeable ;  but  they  are  like  Sisyphus,  the  stone  they  roll  up 
the  hill  with  so  much  toil,  runs  down  again,  and  hits  you  a  thump 
on  the  legs.  They  are  sometimes  polite,  but  invariably  uncivil; 
their  warmth  is  always  artificial — their  cold  never ;  they  are  stiff 
without  dignity,  and  cringing  without  manners.  They  offer  you 
an  affront,  and  call  it  "  plain  truth  ;  "  they  wound  your  feelings, 
and  tell  you  it  is  manly  "  to  speak  their  mind ; "  at  the  same 
time,  while  they  have  neglected  all  the  graces  and  charities  of  arti- 
fice, they  have  adopted  all  its  falsehood  and  deceit.  While  they 
profess  to  abhor  servility,  they  adulate  the  peerage ;  while  they 
tell  you  they  care  not  a  rush  for  the  minister,  they  move  heaven 
and  earth  for  an  invitation  from  the  minister's  wife.  Then  their 
amusements  ! — the  heat — the  dust — the  sameness — the  slowness, 
of  that  odious  park  in  the  morning  !  and  the  same  exquisite  scene 
repeated  in  the  evening,  on  the  condensed  stage  of  a  rout-room. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAiY.  263 

where  one  has  more  heat,  with  less  air,  and  a  narrower  dungeon, 
with  diminished  possibility  of  escape  ! — we  wander  about  like 
the  damned  in  the  story  of  Vathek,  and  we  pass  our  lives,  like 
the  royal  philosopher  of  Prussia,  in  conjugating  the  verb,  Je- 
M  ennuis. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

In  solo  Vivendi  causa  palato  est. — ^Juvenal. 

They  would  talk  of  nothing  but  high  life,  and  high-lived  company; 

with  other  fashionable  topics,  such  as  pictures,  taste,  Shakspeare,  and  the 
musical  glasses. —  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

The  reflections  which  closed  the  last  chapter  will  serve  to 
show  that  I  was  in  no  very  amiable  or  convivial  temper,  when  I 
drove  to  Lord  Guloseton's  dinner.  However,  in  the  world,  it 
matters  little  what  may  be  our  real  mood,  the  mask  hides  the 
bent  brow  and  the  writhing  lip. 

Guloseton  was  stretched  on  his  sofa,  gazing  with  upward  eye 
at  the  beautiful  Venus  which  hung  above  his  hearth.  "  You  are 
welcome,  Pelham  ;  I  am  worshipping  my  household  divinity !  " 

I  prostrated  myself  on  the  opposite  sofa,  and  made  some  an- 
swer to  the  classical  epicure,  which  made  us  both  laugh  heartily. 
We  then  talked  of  pictures,  painters,  poets,  the  ancients,  and 
Dr.  Henderson  on  Wines ;  we  gave  ourselves  up,  without  re- 
straint, to  the  enchanting  fascination  of  the  last-named  subject ; 
and,  our  mutual  enthusiasm  confirming  our  cordiality,  we  went 
down  stairs  to  our  dinner,  as  charmed  with  each  other  as  boon 
companions  always  should  be. 

"  This  is  as  it  should  be,"  said  I,  looking  round  at  the  well- 
filled  table,  and  the  sparkling  spirits  immersed  in  the  ice-pails  ; 
"  a  genuine /r/^/z^/y  dinner.  It  is  very  rarely  that  I  dare  entrust 
myself  to  such  extempore  hospitality — miscrum  est  aliend  vivere 
quadrd. ; — a  friendly  dinner,  a  family  meal,  are  things  from 
which  I  fly  with  undisguised  aversion.  It  is  very  hard,  that  in 
England,  one  cannot  have  a  friend,  on  pain  of  being  shot  or 
poisoned  ;  if  you  refuse  his  familiar  invitations,  he  thinks  you 
mean  to  affrcmt  him,  and  says  something  rude,  for  which  you 
are  forced  to  challenge  him  ;  if  you  accept  them,  you  perish  be- 
neath the  weight  of  boiled  mutton  and  turnips,  or " 

"My  dear  friend,"  interrupted  Guloseton,  with  his  mouth  full, 
"it  is  very  true  ;  but  this  is  no  time  for  talking;  let  us  eat.'" 

I  acknowledged  the  justice  of  the  rebuke,  arvd  we  did  not  in- 


264  PEUIAM ;  0A\ 

terchange  another  word  beyond  the  exclamations  of  surprise, 
pleasure,  admiration,  or  dissatisfaction,  called  up  by  the  objects 
which  engrossed  our  attention,  till  we  found  ourselves  alone 
with  our  dessert. 

When  I  thought  my  host  had  imbibed  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
wine,  I  once  more  renewed  my  attack.  I  had  tried  him  before 
upon  that  point  of  vanity  which  is  centred  in  power,  and  politi- 
cal consideration,  but  in  vain ;  I  now  bethought  me  of  another. 

"  How  few  persons  there  are,"  said  I,  "  capable  of  giving 
even  a  tolerable  dinner — hov/  many  capable  of  admiring  one 
worthy  of  estimation  !  I  could  imagine  no  greater  triumph  for 
the  ambitious  epicure,  than  to  see  at  his  board  the  first  and 
most  honored  persons  of  the  state,  all  lost  in  wonder  at  the 
depth,  the  variety,  the  purity,  the  munificence  of  his  taste ;  all 
forgetting,  in  the  extorted  respect  which  a  gratified  palate  never 
fails  to  produce,  the  more  visionary  schemes  and  projects  which 
usually  occupy  their  thoughts  ; — to  find  those  whom  all  England 
are  soliciting  for  posts  and  power,  become,  in  their  turn,  eager 
and  craving  aspirants  for  places  at  his  table  ; — to  know  that  all 
the  grand  movements  of  the  ministerial  body  are  planned  and 
agitated  over  the  inspirations  of  his  viands  and  the  excitement 
of  his  wine.  From  a  haunch  of  venison,  like  the  one  of  which 
we  have  partaken  to-day,  what  noble  and  substantial  measures 
might  arise  !  From  a  saute  de  foic,  whAt  delicate' subtleties  of 
finesse  might  have  their  origin  !  From  a  ragout  a  la  financiere, 
what  godlike  improvements  in  taxation  !  Oh,  could  such  a  lot 
be  mine,  I  would  envy  neither  Napoleon  for  the  goodness  of  his 
fortune,  nor  S for  the  grandeur  of  his  genius." 

Guloseton  laughed.  "  The  ardor  of  your  enthusiasm  blinds 
your  philosophy,  my  dear  Pelham  ;  like  Montesquieu,  the  liveli- 
ness of  your  fancy  often  makes  you  advance  paradoxes  which 
the  consideration  of  your  judgment  would  afterwards  condemn. 
For  instance,  you  must  allow  that  if  one  had  all  those  fine  per- 
sons at  one's  table,  one  would  be  forced  to  talk  more,  and  con- 
sequently to  eat  less  :  moreover,  you  would  either  be  excited  by 
your  triumph,  or  you  would  not, — that  is  indisputable ;  if  you 
are  not  excited,  you  have  the  bore  for  nothing  ;  if  you  are  ex- 
cited, you  spoil  your  digestion  :  nothing  is  so  detrimental  to  the 
stomach  as  the  feverish  inquietude  of  the  passions.  All  philoso- 
phies recommend  calm  as  the  to  kalon  of  their  code  ;  and 
you  must  perceive,  that  if,  in  the  course  you  advise,  one  has  oc- 
casional opportunities  of  pride,  one  also  has  those  of  mortifica- 
tion.    Mortification  !  terrible  word  ;  how  many  apoplexies  have 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  26$ 

arisen  from  its  source  !     No.     Pelham,  away  with  ambition  ;  fill 
your  glass,  and  learn,  at  last,  the  secret  of  real  philosophy." 

"Confound  the  man  !"  was  my  mental  anathema. — "Long 
life  to  the  Solomon  of  sautes,"  was  my  audible  exclamation, 

"  There  is  something,"  resumed  Guloseton,  "  in  your  coun- 
tenance and  manner,  at  once  so  frank,  lively,  and  ingenuous, 
that  one  is  not  only  prepossessed  in  your  favor,  but  desirous, 
of  your  friendship.  I  tell  you,  therefore,  in  confidence,  that 
nothing  more  amuses  me  than  to  see  the  courtship  I  receive 
from  each  party.  I  laugh  at  all  the  unwise  and  passionate 
contests  in  which  others  are  engaged,  and  I  would  as  soon  think 
of  entering  into  the  chivalry  of  Don  Quixote,  or  attacking  the 
visionary  enemies  of  the  Bedlamite,  as  of  taking  part  in  the  fury 
of  politiaans.  At  present,  looking  afar  off  at  their  delirium,  I 
can  ridicule  it ;  were  I  to  engage  in  it,  I  should  be  hurt  by  it.  I 
have  no  wish  to  become  the  weeping,  instead  of  the  laughing, 
philosopher.  I  sleep  well  now — I  have  no  desire  to  sleep  ill 
I  eat  well — why  should  I  lose  my  appetite  ?  I  am  undisturbed 
and  unattacked  in  the  enjoyments  best  suited  to  my  taste — for 
what  purpose  should  I  be  hurried  into  the  abuse  of  the  journal- 
ists and  the  witticisms  of  pamphleteers  ?  I  can  ask  those  whom 
I  like  to  my  house — why  should  I  be  forced  into  asking  those 
whom  I  do  not  like  ?  In  fine,  my  good  Pelham,  why  should  I 
sour  my  temper  and  shorten  my  life,  put  my  green  old  age  into 
flannel  and  physic,  and  become,  from  the  happiest  of  sages  the 
most  miserable  of  fools  ?  Ambition  reminds  me  of  what  Bacon 
says  of  anger — '  It  is  like  rain,  it  breaks  itself  upon  that  which 
it  falls  on.'     Pelham,  my  boy,  taste  the  Chateau  Margbt.'' 

However  hurt  my  vanity  might  be  in  having  so  ill  succeeded 
in  my  object,  I  could  not  help  smiling  with  satisfaction  at  my 
entertainer's  principles  of  wisdom.  My  diplomatic  honor,  how- 
ever, was  concerned,  and  I  resolved  yet  to  gain  him.  If,  here- 
after, I  succeeded,  it  was  by  a  very  different  method  from  any  I 
had  yet  taken  ;  meanwhile,  I  departed  from  the  house  of  this 
modern  Apicius  with  a  new  insight  into  the  great  book  of  man- 
kind, and  a  new  conclusion  from  its  pages  ;  viz.,  that  no  virtue 
can  make  so  perfect  a  philosopher  as  the  senses.  There  is  no 
content  like  that  of  the  epicure — no  active  code  of  morals  so 
difficult  to  conquer  as  the  inertness  of  his  indolence  ;  he  is  the 
only  being  in  the  world  for  whom  the  present  has  a  supremer 
gratification  than  the  future. 

My  cabriolet  soon  whirled  me  to  Lady  Roaeville's  door  ;  the 
first  }>erson  I  saw  in  the  drawing-room,  was  Ellen.  She  lifted 
up  her  eyes  with  that  fanuliar  sweetness  with  which  they  had 


266  PELHAM;  OR, 

long  since  learnt  to  welcome  me.  "  She  is  the  sister  of  a  mur- 
derer !  "  was  the  thought  that  curdled  my  blood,  and  I  bowed 
distantly  and  passed  on. 

I  met  Vincent.  He  seemed  dispirited  and  dejected.  He 
already  saw  how  ill  his  party  had  succeeded  ;  above  all,  he  was 
enraged  at  the  idea  of  the  person  assigned  by  rumour  to  fill  the 
place  he  had  intended  for  himself.  This  was  a  sort  of  rival  to 
his  lordship,  a  man  of  quaintness  and  quotation,  with  as  much 
learning  as  Vincent,  equal  wit,  and — but  that  personage  is  still 
in  office,  and  I  will  say  no  more,  lest  he  should  think  I  flatter. 

To  our  subject.  It  has  probably  been  observed  that  Lord 
Vincent  had  indulged  less  of  late  in  that  peculiar  strain  of.learned 
humor  formerly  his  wont.  The  fact  is,  that  he  had  been  playmg 
another  part;  he  wished  to  remove  from  his  character  that 
appearance  of  literary  coxcombry  with  which  he  was  charged. 
He  knew  well  how  necessary,  in  the  game  of  politics,  it  is  to 
appear  no  less  a  man  of  the  world  than  of  books  ;  and  though 
he  was  not  averse  to  display  his  clerkship  and  scholastic  infor- 
mation, yet  he  endeavored  to  make  them  seem  rather  valuable 
for  their  weight,  than  curious  for  their  fashion.  How  few  there 
are  in  the  world  who  retain,  after  a  certain  'age,  the  character 
originally  natural  to  them  !  We  all  get,  as  it  were,  a  second 
skin  ;  the  little  foibles,  propensities,  eccentricities,  we  first  in- 
dulged through  affectation,  conglomerate  and  encrust  till  the 
artificiality  grows  into  the  nature. 

"  Pelham,"  said  Vincent,  with  a  cold  smile,  "  the  day  will  be 
yours  ;  the  battle  is  not  to  the  strong — the  Whigs  will  triumph. 
'  Fiigere  Pudor,  verum  que,  fidesqiie ;  in  quorum  subiere  locum 
fraudesque  dolique  itisidieeque,  etvis,  et  amor  sceleratus  habendi.'  "  * 

"A  pretty  modest  quotation,"  said  I.      "You  must  allow,  at 

least,  that  the  armor  sceleratus  habendi  was  also,  in  some  moderate 

degree,  shared  by  the  Pudor  and  Fides  which  characterize  your 

party  ;  otherwise   I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  account  for  the   tough 

-  struggle  against  us  we  have  lately  had  the  honor  of  resisting." 

"Never  mind,"  replied  Vincent,  "I  will  not  refute  you  : — It 
is  not  for  us,  the  defeated,  to  argue  with  you,  the  victors.  But 
pray,  (continued  Vincent,  with  a  sneer  which  pleased  me  not,) 
pray,  among  this  windfall  of  the  Hesperian  fruit,  what  nice  little 
apple  will  fall  to  your  share  ?  " 

"  My  good  Vincent,  don't  let  us  anticipate  ;  if  any  such  apple 
should  come  into  my  lap,  let  it  not  be  that  of  discord  between 
us." 

*  "  Shame,  Truth,  and  Faith  have  flown  ;  jn  their  stead  creep  in  frauds,  craft,  snares, 
force,  and  the  rascally  love  of  gain." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  267 

"  Who  talks  of  discord  ?  "  asked  Lady  Roseville,  joining  us. 

"  Lord  Vincent,"  said  I,  "  fancies  himself  the  celebrate^  fruit, 
on  which  was  written,  detur pulchriori^  to  be  given  to  the  fairest. 
Suffer  me,  therefore,  to  make  him  a  present  to  your  ladyship." 

Vincent  muttered  something  which,  as  I  really  liked  and  es- 
teemed him,  I  was  resolved  not  to  hear ;  accordingly  I  turned 
to  another  part  of  the  room  :  there  I  found  Lady  Dawton — she 
was  a  tall,  handsome  woman,  as  proud  as  a  liberal's  wife  ought 
to  be.  She  received  me  with  unusual  graciousness,  and  I  sat 
myself  beside  her.  Three  dowagers,  and  an  old  beau  of  the  old 
school,  were  already  sharing  the  conversation  with  the  haughty 
countess.     I  found  that  the  topic  was  society. 

"  No,"  said  the  old  beau,  who  was  entitled  Mr.  Clarendon, 
"  society  is  very  different  from  what  it  was  in  my  younger  days. 

You  remember,  Lady  Paulet,  those  delightful  parties  at  D 

House  ?  Where  shall  we  ever  find  anything  like  them  .''  Such 
ease,  such  company — even  the  mixture  was  so  piquant ;  if  one 
chanced  to  sit  next  a  bourgeois,  he  was  sure  to  be  distinguished 
for  his  wit  or  talent.  People  were  not  tolerated,  as  now,  merely 
for  their  riches." 

"  True,"  cried  Lady  Dawton,  "  it  is  the  introduction  of  low 
persons,  without  any  single  pretension,  which  spoils  the  society 
of  the  present  day  !  "  And  the  three  dowagers  sighed  amen,  to 
this  remark. 

"  And  yet,"  said  I,  "  since  I  may  safely  say  so  here  without 
being  suspected  of  a  personality  in  the  shape  of  a  compliment, 
don't  you  think,  that  without  any  such  mixture  we  should  be 
very  indifferent  company  ?  Do  we  not  find  those  dinners  and 
soirees  the  pleasantest  where  we  see  a  minister  next  to  a  punster, 
a  poet  to  a  prince,  and  a  coxcomb  like  me  next  to  a  beauty  like 
Lady  Dawton  ?  The  more  variety  there  is  in  the  conversation, 
the  more  agreeable  it  becomes  !  " 

"Very  just,"  answered  Mr.  Clarendon  ;  "but  it  is  precisely 
because  I  wish  for  that  variety  that  I  dislike  a  miscellaneous 
society.  If  one  does  not  know  the  person  beside  whom 
one  has  the  happiness  of  sitting,  what  possible  subject  can  one 
broach  with  any  prudence.  I  put  politics  aside,  because,  thanks 
to  party  spirit,  we  rarely  meet  those  we  are  strongly  opposed  to  ; 
but  if  we  sneer  at  the  methodists,  our  neighbor  may  be  a  saint 
— if  we  abuse  a  new  book,  he  may  have  written  it — if  we  ob- 
serve that  the  tone  of  the  piano-forte  is  bad,  his  father  may 
have  made  it — if  we  complain  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  commer- 
cial interest,  his  uncle  may  have  been  gazetted  last  week,  I 
name  no  exaggerated  instances,;  on   the  contrary,  I  refer  these 


268  PELHAM;  OR, 

general  remarks  to  particular  individuals,  whom  all  of  us  have 
probably  met.  Thus,  you  see,  that  a  variety  of  topics  is  pro- 
scribed in  a  mixed  company,  because  some  one  or  other  of  them 
will  be  certain  to  offend." 

Perceiving  that  we  listened  to  him  with  attention,  Mr.  Claren- 
don continued — "  Nor  is  this  more  than  a  minor  objection  to  the 
great  mixture   prevalent    amongst  us  ;    a  more  important  one 
may  be  found  in  the    universal    imitation  it  produces.     The 
influx  of  common  persons  being  once  permitted,  certain  sets  re- 
cede, as  it  were,  from  the  contamination,  and  contracts  into  very 
diminished   coteries.     Living  familiarly  solely   amongst  them- 
selves, however  they  may  be  forced  into  visiting  promiscuously, 
they  imbibe  certain  manners,  certain   peculiarities  in  mode  and 
words — even  in  an  accent  or  a  pronunciation,  which  are  confined 
to  themselves  :  and  whatever  differs  from  these  little  eccentrici- 
ties, they  are  apt  to  condemn  as  vulgar  and  suburban.     Nor,  the 
fastidiousness  of  these  sets  making  them  difficult  of  intimate  ac- 
cess, even  to  many  of  their  superiors  in  actual  rank,  those  very 
superiors,  by  a  natural  feeling  in  human  nature,  of  prizing  what 
is  rare,  even  if  it  is  worthless,   are  the  first  to  solicit  their  ac- 
quaintance ;  and,  as   a  sign   that  they  enjoy  it,  to  imitate  those 
peculiarities  which  are  the   especial  hieroglyphics  of  this  sacred 
few.     The  lower  grades  catch   the  contagion,  and  imitate  those 
they  imagine  most  likely  to  know  the  essentials  of  the  mode  ; 
and  thus  manners,  unnatural  to  all,  are  transmitted  second-hand, 
third-hand,  forth-hand,  till  they  are  ultimately  filtered  into  some- 
thing worse  than  no  manners  at  all.     Hence,  you  perceive  all 
people  timid,  stii¥,  unnatural,  and  ill  at  ease  ;  they  are  dressed 
up  in  a  garb  which  does  not  fit  them,  to  which  they  have  never 
been  accustomed,  and  are  as  little  at  home  as  the  wild  Indian 
in  the  boots  and  garments  of  the  more  civilized  European." 

"  And  hence,"  said  I,  "  springs  that  universal  vulgarity  of 
idea,  as  well  as  manner,  which  pervades  all  society — for  nothing 
is  so  plebeian  as  imitation." 

"Avery  evident  truism  !"  said  Clarendon.  "  What  I  lament 
most,  is  the  injudicious  method  certain  persons  took  to  change  this 
order  of  things,  and  diminish  the  de'sagnmeiis  of  the  mixture  we 
speak  of.  I  remember  well,  when  Ahnack's  was  first  set  up, 
the  intention  was  to  keep  away  the  rich  rbturiers  from  a  place, 
the  tone  of  which  was  also  intended  to  be  contrary  to  their  own. 
For  this  purpose  the  patronesses  were  instituted,  the  price  of 
admission  made  extremely  low,  and  all  ostentatious  refreshments 
discarded  :  it  was  an  admirable  institution  for  the  interests  of 
the  little  olisfarchv  who  ruled  it — but  it   has  only  increased  the 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  269 

general  imitation  and  vulgarity.  Perhaps  the  records  of  that 
institution  contains  things  more  disgraceful  to  the  aristocracy  of 
England,  than  the  whole  history  of  Europe  can  furnish.  And 
how  could  the  Messieurs  et Mesdames  Jourdains  help  following  the 
servile  and  debasing  example  of  Monseigneur  le Ducct  Pair?  " 

"  How  strange  it  is,"  said  one  of  the  dowagers,  "  that  of  all 
the  novels  on  society  with  which  we  are  annually  inundated, 
there  is  scarcely  one  which  gives  even  a  tolerable  description 
of  it ! " 

"  Not  strange,"  said  Clarendon,  with  a  formal  smile,  "  if  your 
ladyship  will  condescend  to  reflect.  Most  of  the  writers  upon 
our  little  great  world  have  seen  nothing  of  it :  at  most,  they 
have  been  occasionally  admitted  into  the  routs  of  the  B.'s  and 
C.'s  of  the  second,  or  rather  the  third  set.  A  very  few  are,  it 
is  true,  gentlemen  ;  but  gentlemen,  who  are  not  writers,  are  as 
bad  as  writers  who  are  not  gentlemen.  In  one  work,  which, 
since  it  is  popular,  I  will  not  name,  there  is  a  stiffness  and  stilt- 
edness  in  the  dialogue  and  descriptions  perfectly  ridiculous. 
The  author  makes  his  countesses  always  talking  of  their  family, 
and  his  earls  always  quoting  the  peerage.  There  is  as  much 
fuss  about  state,  and  dignity,  and  pride,  as  if  the  greatest  among 
us  were  not  far  too  busy  with  the  petty  affairs  of  the  world  to 
have  time  for  such  lofty  vanities.  There  is  only  one  rule  nec- 
essary for  a  clever  writer  who  wishes  to  delineate  the  beau  mojide. 
It  is  this  :  let  him  consider  that  '  dukes,  and  lords,  and  noble 
princes,'  eat,  drink,  talk,  move,  exactly  the  same  as  any  other 
class  of  civilized  people — nay,  the  very  subjects  in  conversation 
are,  for  the  most  part,  the  same  in  all  sets — only,  perhaps,  they 
are  somewhat  more  familiarly  and  easily  treated  with  us  than 
among  the  lower  orders,  who  fancy  rank  is  distinguished  by 
pomposity,  and  that  state  affairs  are  discussed  with  the  solem- 
nity of  a  tragedy — that  we  are  always  my  lording  and  my  lad)- 
ing  each  other — that  we  ridicule  commoners,  and  curl  our  hair 
with  Debrett's  Peerage." 

We  air  laughed  at  this  speech,  the  truth  of  which  we  readily 
acknowledged. 

"Nothing,"  said  Lady  Dawton,  "amuses  me  more  than  to 
see  the  great  distinction  which  novel-writers  make  between  the 
titled  and  the  untitled  ;  they  seem  to  be  perfectly  unaware  that 
a  commoner,  of  ancient  family  and  large  fortune,  is  very  often 
of  far  more  real  rank  and  estimation,  and  even  weight,  in  what 
they  are  pleased  to  term  fas/iioti,  than  many  of  the  members  of 
the  Upper  House.  And  what  amuses  me  as  much,  is  the  tio 
distinction  they  make  between  all  people  who   have  titles  ■ — 


270  FELHAM ;  OR, 

Lord  A ,  the  little  baron,  is  exactly  the  same  as  Lord  Z , 

the  great  marquess,  equally  haughty  and  equally  important." 

"  Mais^  nion  Dieu,''  said  a  little  French  count,  who  had  just 
joined  us ;  "  how  is  it  that  you  can  expect  to  find  a  description 
of  society  entertaining,  when  the  society  itself  is  so  dull  ? — the 
closer  the  copy,  the  more  tiresome  it  must  be.  Your  manner, 
pour  vous  amuser,  consists  in  standing  on  a  crowded  staircase, 
and  complaining  that  you  are  terribly  bored.  L'on  s'accoiitume 
difficilenient  d,  une  vie  qui  se passe  stir  rescaiier.'' 

"It  is  very  true,"  said  Clarendon,  "we  cannot  defend  our- 
selves. We  are  a  very  sensible,  thinking,  brave,  sagacious, 
generous,  industrious,  noble-minded  people;  but  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, that  we  are  terrible  bores  to  ourselves  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  world.  Lady  Paulet,  if  you  are  going  so  soon,  honor  me 
by  accepting  my  arm." 

"  You  should  say  your  hand,^''  said  the  Frenchman. 

"  Pardon  me,"  answered  the  gallent  old  beau  ;  "  I  say,  with 
your  brave  countryman  when  he  lost  his  legs  in  battle,  and  was 
asked  by  a  lady,  like  the  one  who  now  leans  on  me,  whether  he 
would  not  sooner  have  lost  his  arms  t  '  No,  madam,'  said  he, 
(and  this.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  is  the  answer  I  give  to  your  rebuke,) 
*  I  want  my  hands  to  guard  my  heart.'  " 

Finding  our  little  knot  was  now  broken  up,_I  went  into  another 
part  of  the  room,  and  joind  Vincent,  Lady  Roseville,  Ellen,  and 
one  or  two  other  persons  who  were  assembled  round  a  table 
covered  with  books  and  prints.  Ellen  was  sitting  on  one 
side  of  Lady  Roseville ;  there  was  a  vacant  chair  next  her,  but 
I  avoided  it,  and  seated  myself  on  the  other  side  of  Lady  Rose- 
ville. 

"  Pray,  Miss  Glanville,"  said  Lord  Vincent,  taking  up  a  thin 
volume,  "  do  you  greatly  admire  the  poems  of   this  lady  .?  " 

"  What,  Mrs.  Hemans  ?  "  answered  Ellen.  "  1  am  more 
enchanted  with  her  poetry  than  I  can  express  :  if  that  is  '  'llic 
Forest  Sanctuary '  which  you  have  taken  up,  I  am  sure  you  will 
bear  me  out  in  my  admiration." 

Vincent  turned  over  the  leaves  with  the  quiet  cynicism  of 
manner  habitual  to  him  ;  but  his  countenance  grew  animated 
after  he  had  read  two  pages.  "This  is,  indeed,  beautiful," 
said  he,  "  really  and  genuinely  beautiful.  How  singular  that 
such  a  work  should  not  be  more  known  !  I  never  met  with  it 
before.     But  whose  pencil-marks  are  these  .?  " 

"  Mine,  I  believe,"  said  Ellen,  modestly. 

And  Lady  Roseville  turned  the  conversation  upon  Lord  Byron. 

"  I  must  confess,  for  my  part,"   said   Lord  Edward   Neville 


ADVENTURE'S  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  271 

(an  author  of  some  celebrity  and  more  merit),  "  that  I  am 
exceedingly  wear}'  of  those  doleful  ditties  with  which  we  have 
been  favored  for  so  many  years.  No  sooner  had  Lord  Byron 
declared  himself  unhappy,  than  every  young  gentleman  with  a 
pale  face  and  dark  hair,  thought  himself  justitied  in  frowning  in 
the  glass  and  writing  Odes  to  Despair.  A.11  persons  who  could 
scribble  two  lines  were  sure  to  make  them  into  rhymes  of 
'blight '  and  '  night.'  Never  was  there  so  grand  2. penchant  for 
the  iriste." 

"  It  would  be  interesting  enough,"  observed  Vincent,  "  to 
trace  the  origin  of  this  melancholy  mania.  People  are  wrong  to 
attribute  it  to  poor  Lord  Byron — it  certainly  came  from  Ger- 
many ;  perhaps  Werter  was  the  first  hero  of  that  school." 

"  There  seems,"  said  I,  "  an  unaccountable  prepossession  among 
all  persons,  to  imagine  that  whatever  seems  gloomy  must  be  pro- 
found, and  whatever  is  cheerful  must  be  shallow.  They  have 
put  poor  Philosophy  into  deep  mourning,  and  given  her  a  coffin 
for  a  writing-desk,  and  a  skull  for  an  inkstand." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Vincent,  "  I  remember  some  lines  so  applicable 
to  your  remark,  that  I  mast  forthwith  interrupt  you,  in  order  to 
introduce  them.  Madame  de  Stael  said,  in  one  of  her  works, 
that  melancholy  was  a  source  of  perfection.  Listen  now  to  my 
author — 

'Une  femme  nous  dit,  et  nous  prouve  en  effet, 
Qu'avant  quelques  mille  ans  I'homme  sera  parfait, 
Qu'il  devra  cet  etat  a  la  vielancolie. 
On  sait  que  le  trisft'sse  aiinonce  le  genie  ; 
Nous  avons  deja  fait  des  jirogres  etonnans ; 
Que  de  tristes  ecrits — que  de  tristes  romans  ! 
Des  plus  noires  horreurs  nous  sommes  idolatres, 
Et  la  melancolie  a  gagne  nos  theatres.'  "  * 

"  What !  "  cried  I,  "  are  you  so  well  acquainted  with  my  favor- 
ite book  ?  " 

"  Yours  !  "  exclaimed  Vincent.  "  Gods,  what  a  sympathy  ;  t 
it  has  long  been  my  most  familiar  acquaintance  -,  but — 

"  'Tell  us  what  hath  chanced  to-day. 
That  Cassar  looks  so  sad?'  " 

♦  "A  woman  tells  us,  and  in  fact  she  proves, 

Than  man,  Ihoutili  slowly,  to  perfection  moves 
Rut  to  be  ixrfict,  tirst  we  must  l)C  sad  ; 
Cienifts,  we  know,  is  melancholy  mad. 
Already  Time  our  startling  prof^ress  hails; 
What  cheerless  essays  ! — what  disastrous  tales  ! 
Hi>rror  has  crown  the  amusement  of  the  age. 
And  Mirth  despairuij;  yawns,  and  Hies  the  stage." 

f  La  G-utfonomic,  I'oc'iLe,  p;a  J.  berchoux. 


-/- 


FELHAM;  OR, 


My  eye  followed  Vincent's  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  this 
question,  and  rested  upon  Glanville,  who  had  that  moment  en- 
tered the  room.  I  might  have  known  that  he  was  expected,  by 
Lady  Roseville's  abstraction,  the  restlessness  with  which  she 
started  at  times  from  her  seat,  and  as  instantly  resumed  it ; 
and  the  fond  expecting  looks  towards  the  door,  every  time  it 
shut  or  opened,  which  denote  so  strongly  the  absent  and  dream- 
ing heart  of  the  woman  who  loves. 

Glanville  seemed  paler  than  usual,  and  perhaps  even  sadder; 
but  he  was  less  distrait  and  abstracted  ;  no  sooner  did  he  see, 
than  he  approached  me,  and  extended  his  hand  with  great 
cordiality.  His  hand  !  thought  I,  and  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  accept  it ;  I  merely  addressed  him  in  the  common-place 
salutation.  He  looked  hard  and  inquisitively  at  me,  and  then 
turned  abruptly  away.  Lady  Roseville  had  risen  from  her 
chair — her  eyes  followed  him.  He  had  thrown  himself  on  a 
settee  near  the  window.  She  went  up  to  him,  and  sat  herself 
by  his  side.  I  turned — my  face  burned — my  heart  beat — I  was 
now  next  to  Ellen  Glanville  ;  she  was  looking  down,  apparently 
employed  with  some  engravings,  but  I  thought  her  hand  trem- 
bled. 

There  was  a  pause.  Vincent  was  talking  with  the  other 
occupiers  of  the  table  :  a  woman,  at  such  times,  is  always  the 
first  to  speak.  "  We  have  not  seen  you,  Mr.  Pelham,"  said 
Ellen,  "  since  your  return  to  town." 

"  I  have  been  very  ill,"  I  answered,  and  I  felt  my  voice  falter. 
Ellen  looked  up  anxiously  at  my  face ;  I  could  not  brook  those 
large,  deep,  tender  eyes,  and  it  now  became  my  turn  to  occupy 
myself  with  the  prints. 

"  You  do  look  pale,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  I  did  not 
trust  myself  with  a  further  remark — dissimulator  as  I  was  to 
others,  I  was  like  a  guilty  child  before  the  woman  I  loved. 
There  was  another  pause — at  last  Ellen  said,  "  How  do  you 
think  my  brother  looks  ?  " 

I  started  ;  yes,  he  was  her  brother,  and  I  was  once  more  my- 
self at  that  thought.  I  answered  so  coldly,  and  almost  haught- 
ily, that  Ellen  coloured,  and  said  with  some  dignity  that  she 
should  join  Lady  Roseville.  I  bowed  slightly,  and  she  with- 
drew to  the  countess.  I  seized  my  hat  and  departed — but  not 
utterly  alone — I  had  managed  to  secrete  the  book  which  Ellen's 
hand  had  marked  :  through  many  a  bitter  day  and  sleepless 
night,  that  book  has  been  my  only  companion  ;■  I  have  it  before 
me  now  ;  and  it  is  open  at  a  page  which  is  yet  blistered  with 
the  traces  of  former  tears  ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  273 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

Our  mistress  is  a  little  given  to  philosophy :  what  disputations  shall 

we  have  here  by  and  by? — Gil  Blas. 

It  was  now  but  seldom  that  I  met  Ellen,  for  I  went  little  into 
general  society,  and  grew  every  day  more  engrossed  in  political 
affairs.  Sometimes,  however,  when,  wearied  of  myself,  and  my 
graver  occupations,  I  yielded  to  my  mother's  solicitations,  and 
went  to  one  of  the  nightly  haunts  of  the  goddess  we  term  Pleas- 
ure and  the  Greeks  Moria,  the  game  of  dissipation  (to  use  a 
Spanish  proverb)  shuffled  us  together.  It  was  then  that  I  had 
the  most  difficult  task  of  my  life  to  learn  and  to  perform  ;  to 
check  the  lip — the  eye — the  soul — to  heap  curb  on  curb,  upon 
the  gushings  of  the  heart,  which  daily  and  hourly  yearned  to 
overflow ;  and  to  feel,  that  while  the  mighty  and  restless  tides 
of  passion  were  thus  fettered  and  restrained,  all  within  was  a 
parched  and  arid  wilderness,  that  wasted  itself,  for  want  of  very 
moisture,  away.  Yet  there  was  something  grateful  in  the  sadness 
with  which  I  watched  her  form  in  the  dance,  or  listened  to  her 
voice  in  the  song  ;  and  I  felt  soothed,  and  even  happy,  when  my 
fancy  flattered  itself,  that  her  step  never  now  seemed  so  light, 
as  it  was  wont  to  be  when  in  harmony  with  mine,  nor  the  songs 
that  pleases  her  most,  so  gay  as  those  that  were  formerly  her 
choice. 

Distant  and  unobserved,  I  loved  to  feed  my  eyes  upon  her 
pale  cheek  and  downcast  eye  ;  to  note  the  abstraction  that  came 
over  her  at  moments,  even  when  her  glance  seemed  brightest, 
and  her  lip  most  fluent ;  and  to  know,  that  while  a  fearful  mys- 
tery might  for  ever  forbid  the  union  of  her  hands,  there  was  an 
invisible,  but  electric  chain,  which  connected  the  sympathies  of 
our  hearts. 

Ah  !  why  is  it,  that  the  noblest  of  our  passions  should  be  also 
the  most  selfish  ? — that  while  we  would  make  all  earthly  sacri- 
fice for  the  one  we  love,  we  are  perpetually  demanding  a 
sacrifice  in  return  ;  that  if  we  cannot  have  the  rapture  of  bless- 
ing we  find  a  consolation  in  the  power  to  afflict ;  and  that  we 
acknowledge,  while  we  reprobate,  the  maxim  of  the  sage  :  "ZV;^ 
veutfaire  tout  le  bonheiir,  ou,  si  cella  ?ie  se  pent  ainsi,  tout  le  mal- 
heur  dc  ce  qu'on  a'nney  * 

The  beauty  of  Ellen  was  not  of  that  nature  which  rest  solely 
upon  the  freshness  of  youth,  nor  even  the  magic  of  expression  ; 

♦  "  One  wishes  to  make  all  the  happiness,  or,  if  that  is  forbidden,  all  the  unhappincsi 
of  the  bcinj;  wc  love." 


274  PELHAAI ;  OR, 

it  was  as  faultless  as  it  was  dazzling;  no  one  could  deny  its  ex- 
cess or  its  perfection  ;  her  praises  came  constantly  to  my  ear, 
into  whatever  society  I  went.  Say  what  we  will  of  the  power  of 
love,  it  borrows  greatly  from  opinion  :  pride,  above  all  things, 
sanctions  and  strengthens  affection.  When  all  voices  were 
united  to  panegyrize  her  beauty, — when  I  knew,  that  the  powers 
of  her  wit — the  charms  of  her  conversation — the  accurate  judg- 
ment, united  to  the  sparkling  imagination,  were  even  more  re- 
markable characteristics  of  her  mind,  than  loveliness  of  her  per- 
son, I  could  not  but  feel  my  ambition,  as  well  as  my  tenderness, 
excited  :  I  dwelt  with  a  double  intensity  on  my  choice,  and  with 
a  tenfold  bitterness  on  the  obstacle  which  forbade  me  to  indulge 
it. 

Yet  there  was  one  circumstance,  to  which,  in  spite  of  all  the 
evidence  against  Reginald,  my  mind  still  fondly  and  eagerly 
clung.  In  searching  the  pockets  of  the  unfortunate  Tyrrell,  the 
money  he  had  mentioned  to  me  as  being  in  his  possession,  could 
not  be  discovered.  Had  Glanville  been  the  murderer,  at  all 
events  he  could  not  have  been  the  robber.  It  was  true  that  in 
the  death  scuffle,  which  in  all  probability  took  place,  the  money 
might  have  fallen  from  the  person  of  the  deceased,  either  among 
the  long  grass  which  grew  rankly  and  luxuriantly  around,  or  in 
the  sullen  and  slimy  pool,  close  to  which  the  murder  was  perpe- 
trated ;  it  was  also  possible,  that  Thornton,  knowing  that  the  de- 
ceased had  so  large  a  sum  about  him,  and  not  being  aware  that 
the  circumstance  had  been  communicated  to  me  or  any  one  else, 
might  not  have  been  able  (when  he  and  Dawson  first  went  to 
spot)  to  resist  so  great  a  temptation.  However,  there  was  a 
slight  crevice  in  this  fact,  for  a  sunbeam  of  hope  to  enter,  and  I 
was  too  sanguine,  by  habitual  temperament  and  present  passion, 
not  to  turn  towards  it  from  the  general  darkness  of  my  thoughts. 

With  Glanville  I  was  often  brought  into  immediate  contact, 
both  united  in  the  same  party,  and  engaged  in  concerting  the 
same  measures  :  we  frequently  met  in  public,  and  sometimes 
even  alone.  However,  I  was  invariably  cold  and  distant,  and 
Glanville  confirmed  rather  than  diminished  my  suspicions,  by 
making  no  commentary  on  my  behavior,  and  imitating  it  in  the 
indifference  of  his  own.  Yet,  it  was  with  a  painful  and  aching 
heart,  that  I  marked  in  his  emaciated  form  and  sunken  cheek, 
the  gradual,  but  certain  progress  of  disease  and  death  ;  and  while 
all  England  rang  with  the  renown  of  the  young,  but  almost  un- 
rivalled orator,  and  both  parties  united  in  anticipating  the  cer- 
tainty and  brilliancy  of  his  success,  I  felt  how  improbable  it  was, 
that,  even  if  his  crimee  scaped  the  unceasing  vigilance  of  justice, 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  275 

this  l!ving  world  would  long  possess  an}''  traces  of  his  genius  but 
the  remembrance  ol  his  name.  There  was  something  in  his  love 
of  letters,  his  habits  of  luxury  and  expense,  the  energy  of  his 
mind — the  solitude,  the  darkness,  the  hauteur,  the  reserve  of  his 
manners  and  life,  which  reminded  me  of  the  German  Wallen- 
stein  ;  nor  was  he  altogether  without  the  superstition  of  that  evil, 
but  extraordinary  man.  It  is  true  that  he  was  not  addicted  to 
the  romatic  fables  of  astrology,  but  he  was  an  earnest,  though 
secret,  advocate  of  the  world  of  spirits.  He  did  not  utterly  dis- 
believe the  various  stories  of  their  return  to  earth  and  their  visits 
to  the  living ;  and  it  would  have  been  astonishing  to  me,  had  I 
been  a  less  diligent  observer  of  human  inconsistencies,  to  mark  a 
mind,  otherwise  so  reasoning  and  strong,  in  this  respect  so  cred- 
ulous and  weak  ;  and  to  witness  its  reception  of  a  belief,  not 
only  so  adverse  to  ordinary  reflection,  but  so  absolutely  contra- 
dictory to  the  philosophy  it  passionately  cultivated,  and  the 
principles  it  obstinately  espoused. 

One  evening,  I,  Vincent,  and  Clarendon,  were  alone  at  Lady 
Roseville's,  when  Reginald  and  his  sister  entered.  I  rose  to  de- 
part ;  the  beautiful  Countess  would  not  sufifer  it ;  and  when  I 
looked  at  Ellen,  and  saw  her  blush  at  my  glance,  the  weakness 
of  my  heart  conquered  and  I  remained. 

Our  conversation  turned  partly  upon  books,  and  principally 
on  the  science  du  cceur  et  du  mo7ide,  for  Lady  Roseville  was  iiii 
pen  philosophe,  as  well  as  more  than  nn  pen  litteraire ;  and  her 
house,  like  those  of  Du  Ueffands  and  D'Epinays  of  the  old  French 
regime,  was  one  where  serious  subjects  were  cultivated,  as  well 
as  the  lighter  ones ;  where  it  was  the  mode  to  treat  no  less  upon 
things  than  to  scandalize /^ri-w/j";  and  where  maxims  on  men 
and'/eflections  on  manners  were  as  much  in  their  places,  as  strict- 
ures on  the  Opera  and  invitations  to  balls. 

All  who  were  now  assembled  were  more  or  less  suited  to  one 
another";  all  were  people  of  the  world,  and  yet  occasional  students 
of  the  closet;  but  all  had  a  different  method  of  expressing  their 
learning  or  their  observations.  Clarendon  was  dry,  formal, 
shrewd,  and  possessed  of  the  suspicious  philosophy  common  10 
men  hackneyed  in  the  world.  Vincent  relieved  his  learning  by 
the  quotation  or  metaphor,  or  originality  of  some  sort,  with  which 
it  was  expressed.  Lady  Roseville  seldom  spoke  much,  but  when 
she  did,  it  was  rather  with  grace  than  solidity.  She  was  natur- 
ally melancholy  and  pensive,  and  her  observations  partook  of. 
the  colorings  of  her  mind  ;  but  she  was  also  a  dafne  de  la  conr,  ac' 
customed  to  conceal,  and  her  language  was  gay  and  trilling,  while 
the  sentiments  it  clothed  were  pensive  and  sad. 


276  PELHAM;  OR, 

Ellen  Glanville  was  an  attentive  listener,  but  a  diffident  speaker. 
Though  her  knowledge  was  even  masculme  for  its  variety  and 
extent,  she  was  averse  from  displaying  it ;  the  childish,  the  lively, 
the  tender,  were  the  outward  traits  of  her  character — the  flowers 
were  above,  but  the  mine  was  beneath ;  one  noted  the  beauty 
of  the  first — one  seldom  dreamt  of  the  value  of  the  last. 

Glanville's  favorite  method  of  expressing  himself  was  terse 
and  sententious.  He  did  not  love  the  labor  of  detail :  he  conveyed 
the  knowledge  of  years  in  an  axiom.  Sometimes  he  was  fanci- 
ful, sometimes  false ;  but,  generally  dark,  melancholy,  and 
bitter. 

As  for  me,  I  entered  more  into  conversation  at  Lady  Rose- 
ville's  than  I  usually  do  elsewhere  ;  being,  according  to  my  favor- 
ite philosophy,  gay  on  the  serious,  and  serious  on  the  gay  ;  and, 
perhaps,  this  is  a  juster  method  of  treating  the  two  than  would 
be  readily  imagined  :  for  things  which  are  usually  treated  with 
importance,  are,  for  the  most  part,  deserving  of  ridicule  :  and 
those  which  we  receive  as  trifles,  swell  themselves  into  a  conse- 
quence we  little  dreamt  of,  before  they  depart, 

Vincent  took  up  a  volume  :  it  was  Shelley's  Posthumous  Poems, 
"  How  fine,"  said  he,  "  some  of  these  are  !  but  they  are  fine  frag- 
ments of  an  architecture  in  bad  taste  :  they  are  imperfect  in 
themselves,  and  faulty  in  the  school  they  belong  to  ;  yet,  such  as 
they  are,  the  master-hand  is  evident  upon  them.  They  are  like 
the  pictures  of  Paul  Veronese — often  offending  the  eye,  often  irri- 
tating the  judgment,  but  breathing  of  something  vast  and  lofty 
— their  very  faults  are  majestic  ; — this  age,  perhaps  no  other, 
will  ever  do  them  justice — but  the  disciples  of  future  schools 
will  make  glorious  pillage  of  their  remains.  The  writings  of 
Shelley  would  furnish  matter  for  a  hundred  volumes;  they  are 
an  admirable  museum  of  ill-arranged  curiosities — they  are  dia- 
monds awkwardly  set ;  but  one  of  them,  in  the  hands  of  a  skil- 
ful jeweller,  would  be  inestimable  ;  and  the  poet  of  the  future 
will  serve  him  as  Mercury  did  the  tortoise  in  his  own  translation 
from  Homer — make  him  '  sing  sweetly  when  he's  dead  ! '  Their 
lyres  will  be  made  out  of  his  shell.'" 

"  If  I  judge  rightly,"  said  Clarendon,  "  his  literary  faults  were 
these  ;  he  was  too  learned  in  his  poetry,  and  too  poetical  in  his 
learning.  Learning  is  the  bane  of  a  poet.  Imagine  how  beau- 
tiful Petrarch  would  be  without  his  platonic  conceits  ;  fancy  the 
luxuriant  imagination  of  Cowley,  left  to  run  wild  among  the  lofty 
objects  of  nature,  not  the  minute  peculiarities  of  art.  Even  Mil- 
ton, who  made  a  more  graceful  and  gorgeous  use  of  learning, 
than,  perhaps,  any  other  poet,  would  have  been  far  more  popular 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  277 

if  he  had  been  more  familiar,  Poetr}-  is  for  the  multitude — eru- 
dition for  the  few.  In  proportion  as  you  mix  tliem,  erudition 
will  gain  in  readers,  and  poetry  lose." 

"  True,"  said  Glanville  ;  "and  thus  the  poetical,  among  philos- 
ophers, are  the  most  popular  of  their  time  ;  and  the  philosophical 
among  poets,  the  least  popular  of  theirs." 

"Take  care,"  said  Vincent,  smiling,  "that  we  are  not  misled 
by  the  point  of  your  deduction;  the  remark  is  true,  but  with  a 
certain  reservation,  viz. ,  that  the  philosophy  which  renders  a 
poet  less  popular,  must  be  the  philosophy  of  learni?ig,  not  of  wis- 
dom. Whenever  it  consists  in  the  knowledge  of  the  plainer 
springs  of  the  heart,  and  not  in  abstruse  inquiry  into  its  metaphys- 
ical and  hidden  subtleties,  it  necessarily  increases  the  popularity 
of  the  poems;  because,  instead  of  being  limited  to  the  few,  it 
comes  home  to  every  one.  Thus,  it  is  the  philosophy  of  Shaks- 
peare,  which  puts  him  into  every  one's  hands  and  hearts — 
while  that  of  Lucretius,  wonderful  poet  as  he  is,  makes  us  often 
throw  down  the  book  because  it  fatigues  us  with  the  scholar. 
Philosophy,  therefore,  only  sins  in  poetry,  when,  in  the  severe 
garb  of  learning,  it  becomes  harsh  and  crabbed,  and  not  '  musi- 
cal as  is  Apollo's  lute.'  " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  I,  "  how  much  more  difficult  than  of  yore  edu- 
cation is  become  !  formerly,  it  had  only  one  object — to  acquire 
learning  ;  and  now,  we  have  not  only  to  acquire  it,  but  to  know 
what  to  do  with  it  when  we  have — nay,  there  are  not  a  few  cases 
where  the  very  perfection  of  learning  will  be  io  appear  ignorant." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Glanville,  "  the  very  perfection  of  wisdo7n 
may  consist  in  retaining  actual  ignorance.  Where  was  there  ever 
the  individual  who,  after  consuming  years,  life,  health,  in  the 
pursuit  of  science,  rested  satisfied  with  its  success,  or  rewarded 
by  its  triumph  "i  Common  sense  tells  us  that  the  best  method 
of  employing  life  \s  to  enjoy  it.  Common  sense  tells  us,  also,  the 
ordinary  means  of  this  enjoyment ;  health,  competence,  and  the 
indulgence,  but  the  moderate  indulgence,  of  our  passions.  What 
have  these  to  do  with  science  ?  " 

"  I  might  tell  you,"  replied  Vincent,  "  that  I  myself  have  been 
no  idle  nor  inactive  seeker  after  the  hidden  treasures  of  mind  ; 
and  that,  from  my  own  experience,  I  could  speak  of  pleasure, 
pride,  complacency,  in  the  pursuit,  that  were  no  inconsiderable 
augmenters  of  my  stock  of  enjoyment ;  but  1  have  the  candor 
to  confess,  also,  that  I  have  known  disappointment,  mortification, 
despondency  of  mind,  and  infirmity  of  body,  that  did  more  than 
balance  the  account.  The  fact  is,  in  my  opinion,  that  the  indi- 
vidual is  a  sufferer  for  his  toils,  but  then  the  mass  is  benefited 


278  PELHAM  ;  OR, 

by  his  success.  It  is  we  who  reap,  in  idle  gratification,  what 
the  husbandman  has  sown  in  the  bitterness  of  hibor.  Genius 
did  not  save  Milton  from  poverty  and  blindness — nor  Tasso  from 
the  mad-house — nor  Galileo  from  the  inquisition  ;  they  were  the 
sufferers,  but  posterity  the  gainers.  The  literary  empire  reverses 
the  political ;  it  is  not  the  many  made  for  one — it  is  the  one 
made  for  many.  Wisdom  and  Genius  must  have  their  martyrs 
as  well  as  Religion,  and  with  the  same  results,  viz.,  semen  ecclesice 
est  sanguis  inarty7-orum.  And  this  reflection  must  console  us  for 
their  misfortunes,  for,  perhaps,  it  was  sufficient  to  console  them. 
In  the  midst  of  the  most  affecting  passage  in  the  most  wonderful 
work,  perhaps,  ever  produced,  for  the  mixture  of  universal 
thought  with  individual  interest — I  mean  the  last  two  cantos  of 
Childe  Harold — the  poet  warms  from  himself  at  his  hopes  of  be- 
ing remembered 

' In  his  line 


'  With  his  land's  language.' 

Ana  who  can  read  the  noble  and  heart-speaking  apology  of  Al- 
gernon Sydney,  without  entering  into  his  consolation  no  less  than 
his  misfortunes  ?  Speaking  of  the  law  being  turned  into  a  snare 
instead  of  a  protection,  and  instancing  its  uncertainty  and  dan- 
ger in  the  times  of  Richard  the  Second,  he  says,  '  God  only 
knows  what  will  be  the  issue  of  the  like  practices  in  these  our 
days;  perhaps  He  will  in  his  mercy  speedily  visit  his  afflicted 
people  ;  /  die  in  the  faith  that  he  zvill  do  it,  though  I  know  not  the 
time  or- ways  J  " 

"  I  love,"  said  Clarendon,  "  the  enthusiasm  which  places 
comfort  in  so  noble  a  source  •  but,  is  vanity,  think  you,  a  less 
powerful  agent  than  philanthropy  ?  Is  it  not  the  desire  of 
shining  before  men  that  prompts  us  to  whatever  may  effect  it  ? 
and  if  it  can  create,  can  it  not  also  support  ?  I  mean,  that  if 
you  allow  that  to  shine,  to  dazzle,  to  enjoy  praise,  is  no  ordinary 
incentive  to  the  commencement  of  great  works,  the  conviction 
of  future  success  for  this  desire  becomes  no  inconsiderable 
reward.  Grant,  for  instance,  that  this  desire  produced  the 
'  Paradise  Lost,'  and  you  will  not  deny  that  it  might  also  sup- 
port the  poet  through  his  misfortunes.  Do  you  think  that  he 
thought  rather  of  the  pleasure  his  work  should  afford  to  posterity, 
than  of  the  przisQS  posterity  should  extend  to  his  work  ?  Had  not 
Cicero  left  us  such  frank  confessions  of  himself,  how  patriotic, 
how  philanthropic  we  should  have  esteemed  him  !  JVow  we  know 
both  his  motive  and  his  meed  was  vanity,  may  we  not  extend 
the  knowledge  of  human  nature  which  we  have  gained  in  this 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  279 

instance  by  applying  it  to  others  ?  For  my  part,  I  should  be 
loth  to  inquire  how  large  a  quantum  of  vanity  mingled  with  the 
haughty  patriotism  of  Sydney,  or  the  unconquered  soul  of 
Cato." 

Glanville  bowed  his  head  in  approval. 

"  But,"  observed  I,  ironically,  "  why  be  so  uncharitable  to 
this  poor  and  persecuted  principle,  since  none  of  you  deny  the 
good  and  great  actions  it  effects  ;  why  stigmatize  vanity  as  a 
vice,  when  it  creates,  or,  at  least,  participates  in,  so  many  vir- 
tues ?  I  wonder  the  ancients  did  not  erect  the  choicest  of  their 
temples  to  its  worship.  As  for  me,  I  shall  henceforth  only 
speak  of  it  as  the  prijiium  mobile  of  whatever  we  venerate  and 
admire,  and  shall  think  it  the  highest  compliment  I  can  pay  to 
a  man,  to  tell  him  he  is  emi/ie?itly  vain  /" 

"  1  incline  to  your  opinion,"  cried  Vincent,  laughing.  "  The 
reason  we  dislike  vanity  in  others,  is  because  it  is  perpetually 
hurting  our  own.  Of  all  passions  (if  for  the  moment  I  may  call 
it  such)  it  is  the  most  indiscreet ;  it  is  forever  blabbing  out  its 
own  secrets.  If  it  would  but  keep  its  counsel,  it  would  be  as 
graciously  received  in  society,  as  any  other  well-dressed  and 
well-bred  intruder  of  quality.  Its  garrulity  makes  it  despised. 
But  in  truth  it  must  be  clear,  that  vanity  in  itself  is  neither  a 
vice  nor  a  virtue,  any  more  than  this  knife,  in  itself,  is  danger- 
ous or  useful ;  the  person  who  employs  gives  it  its  qualities  : 
thus,  for  instance,  a  great  mind  desires  to  shine,  or  is  vaifi,  in 
great  actions  ;  a  frivolous  one,  in  frivolities  ;  and  so  on  through 
the  varieties  of  the  human  intellect.  But  I  cannot  agree  w'ith 
Mr.  Clarendon  that  my  admiration  of  Algernon  Sydney  (Cato  I 
never  rt'iV/ admire)  would  be  at  all  lessened  by  the  discovery, 
that  his  resistance  to  tyranny  in  a  great  measure  originated  in 
vanity,  or  that  the  same  vanity  consoled  him,  when  he  fell  a 
victim  to  that  resistance  ;  for  what  does  it  prove  but  this,  that, 
among  the  various  feelings  of  his  soul,  indignation  at  oppression 
(so  common  to  all  men) — enthusiasm  for  liberty,  (so  predomi- 
nant in  him) — the  love  of  benefiting  others — the  noble  ]3ride  of 
being,  in  death,  consistent  with  himself ;  among  all  ihese  feel- 
ings, among  a  crowd  of  others  equally  honorable  and  pure — 
there  was  also  one,  and  perhaps  no  inconsiderable  feeling,  of 
desire  that  his  life  and  death  should  be  hereafter  appreciated 
justly  ?  Contempt  of  fame  is  the  contempt  of  virtue.  Never 
consider  that  vanity  an  offence  which  limits  itself  to  wishing  for 
the  praise  of  good  men  for  good  actions  ;  *  next  to  our  own 
esteem,'  says  the  best  of  the  Roman  philosophers,  '  it  is  a  virtue 
to  desire  the  esteem  of  others.'  " 


28o  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  By  your  emphasis  on  the  word  esteem,^''  said  Lady  Roseville, 
"  I  suppose  you  attach  some  peculiar  importance  to  the  word  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  answered  Vincent,  "  I  use  it  in  contra-distinction  to 
admiration.  We  may  covet  general  admiration  for  a  bad zction — 
(for  many  bad  actions  have  the  clinquant,  which  passes  for  real 
gold) — but  one  can  expect  general  esteem  only  for  a  good  one." 

"  From  this  distinction,"  said  Ellen,  modestly,  "  may  we  not 
draw  an  inference,  which  will  greatly  help  us  in  our  considera- 
tion of  vanity  ?  may  we  not  deem  that  vanity  which  desires 
only  the  esteem  of  others,  to  be  invariably  a  virtue,  and  that 
which  only  longs  for  admiration  to  be  frequently  a  vice  ?  " 

"  We  may  admit  your  inference,"  said  Vincent ;  "  and  before 
I  leave  this  question,  I  cannot  help  remarking  upon  the  folly  of 
the  superficial,  who  imagine,  by  studying  human  motives,  that 
philosophers  wish  to  depreciate  human  actions.  To  direct  our 
admiration  to  a  proper  point,  is  surely  not  to  destroy  it;  yet 
how  angry  inconsiderate  enthusiasts  are,  when  we  assign  real, 
in  the  place  of  exaggerated  feelings  !  Thus  the  advocates  for 
the  doctrine  of  utility — the  most  benevolent,  because  the  most 
indulgent,  of  all  philosophers — are  branded  with  the  epithets  of 
selfish  and  interested ;  decriers  of  moral  excellence,  and  disbe- 
lievers in  generous  actions.  Vice  has  no  friend  like  the  preju- 
dices which  call  themselves  virtue.  Le pretexte  ordinaire  de  cetix 
quifo7it  le  malheiir  des  autres  est  qii'ils  veulent  leiir  bien^  * 

My  eyes  were  accidentally  fixed  on  Glanville  as  Vincent  ceas- 
ed ;  he  looked  up,  and  colored  faintly  as  he  met  my  look  ;  but 
he  did  not  withdraw  his  own — keenly  and  steadily  we  gazed  up- 
on each  other,  till  Ellen,  turning  round  suddenly,  remarked  the 
unwonted  meaning  of  our  looks,  and  placed  her  hand  in  her 
brother's,  with  a  sort  of  fear.  " 

It  was  late ;  he  rose  to  withdraw,  and  passing  me,  said  in  a 
low  tone,  "  A  little  while,  and  you  shall  know  all."  I  made  no 
answer — -he  left  the  room  with  Ellen. 

"  Lady  Roseville  has  had  but  a  dull  evening,  I  fear,  with  our 
stupid  saws  and  ancient  instances,"  said  Vincent.  The  eyes  of 
the  person  he  addressed  were  fixed  upon  the  door;  I  was  stand- 
ing close  by  her,  and,  as  the  words  struck  her  ear,  she  turned 
abruptly  ; — a  tear  fell  upon  my  hand — she  perceived  it,  and 
though!  would  not  look  upon  \v^x  face,  I  saw  that  her  very  neck 
blushed ;  but  she,  like  me,  if  she  gave  way  to  feeling,  had 
learned  too  deep  a  lesson  from  the  world,  not  readily  to  resume 
her  self-command  ;  she  answered  Vincent  rallyingly,  upon  his 

*  "  The  ordinary  pretext  of  those  who  make  the  misery  of  others  is,  that  they  wish 
their  {food." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  281 

bad  compliment  to  us,  and  received  our   adieus  with  all    her 
customary  grace,  and  more  than  her  customary  gaiety. 


CHAPTE-R  LXIX. 

Ah !  Sir,  had  I  but  bestowed  half  the  pains  in  learning  a  trade,  that  I 
have  in  learning  to  be  a  scoundrel,  I  might  have  been  a  rich  man  at  this 
day;  but,  rogue  as  I  am,  still  I  may  be  your  friend,  and  that  perhaps,  when 
you  least  expect  it. —  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

What  with  the  anxiety  and  uncertainty  of  my  political  pros- 
pects, the  continued  whirlpool  in  which  I  lived,  and  above  all,  the 
unpropitious  state  of  my  belle  passion^  my  health  gave  way  ;  my 
appetite  forsook  me — my  sleep  failed  me — I  lost  my  good  looks, 
and  my  mother  declared,  that  I  should  have  no  chance  with  an 
heiress  ;  all  these  circumstances  together  were  not  without  their 
weight.  So  I  set  out  one  morning  to  Hampton  Court,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  country  air. 

It  is  by  no  means  an  unpleasant  thing  to  turn  one's  back 
upon  the  great  city  in  the  height  of  its  festivities..  Misanthropy 
is  a  charming  feeling  for  a  short  time,  and  one  inhales  the 
country,  and  animadverts  on  the  town,  with  the  most  melan- 
choly satisfaction  in  the  world.  I  sat  myself  down  at  a* pretty 
little  cottage,  a  mile  out  of  the  town.  From  the  window  of  my 
drawing-room  I  revelled  in  the  luxurious  contemplation  of  three 
pigs,  one  cow,  and  a  straw  yard  ;  and  I  could  get  to  the  Thames 
in  a  walk  of  five  minutes,  by  a  short  cut  through  a  lime-kiln. 
Such  pleasing  opportunities  of  enjoying  the  beauties  of  nature, 
are  not  often  met  with  :  you  may  be  sure,  therefore,  that  I  made 
the  most  of  them.  I  rose  earl}-,  walked  before  breakfast,  for 
my  health,  and  came  back  with  a  most  satisfactory  headache, 
for  my  pains.  I  read  for  just  three  hours,  walked  for  two 
more,  thought  over  Abernethy,  dyspepsia,  and  blue  pills,  till  din- 
ner ;  and  absolutely  forgot  Lord  Dawton,  ambition,  Guloseton, 
epicurism  ay,  all  but — of  course,  reader,  you  know  whom  I  am 
about  to  except, — the  ladye  of  my  love. 

One  bright,  laughing  day,  I  threw  down  my  book  an  hour 
sooner  than  usual,  and  sallied  out  with  a  lightness  of  foot  and 
exhilaration  of  spirit,  to  which  I  had  long  been  a  stranger.  I 
had  just  sprung  over  a  stile  that  led  into  one  of  those  green 
shady  lanes,  which  make  us  feel  that  the  old  poets  who  loved, 
and  lived  for  nature,  were  right  in  calling  our  island  "  the  merry 
England  " — when  I  was  startled  by  a  short,  quick  bark,  on  one 


232  PELHAM;  OR, 

side  of  the  hedge.  I  turned  sharply  round  ;  and,  seated  "upon 
the  sward,  was  a  man,  apparently  of  the  pedlar  profession  ;  a 
large  deal  box  was  lying  open  before  him  ;  a  few  articles  of  lin- 
en, and  female  dress,  were  scattered  round,  and  the  man  himself 
appeared  earnestly  occupied  in  examining  the  deeper  recesses 
of  his  itinerant  warehouse.  A  small  black  terrier  flew  towards 
me  with  no  friendly  growl.  "  Down,"  said  I  ;  "all  strangers  are 
not  foes — though  the  English  generally  think  so." 

The  man  hastily  looked  up ;  perhaps  he  was  struck  with  the 
quaintness  of  my  remonstrance  to  his  canine  companion  ;  for, 
touching  his  hat,  civilly,  he  said — "The  dog.  Sir,  is  very  quiet; 
he  only  means  to  give  ;;/:'  the  alarm  by  giving  it  to  you  ;  for, 
dogs  seem  to  have  no  despicable  insight  into  human  nature,  and 
know  well  that  the  best  of  us  may  be  taken  by  surprise." 

"  You  are  a  moralist,"  said  I,  not  a  little  astonished  in  my 
turn  by  such  an  address  from  such  a  person.  "  I  could  not 
have  expected  to  stumble  upon  a  philosopher  so  easily.  Have 
you  any  wares  in  your  box  likely  to  suit  me  ?  if  so,  I  should  like 
to  purchase  of  so  moralizing  a  vender  !  " 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  the  seeming  pedlar,  smiling,  and  yet  at  the 
same  time  hurrying  his  goods  into  his  box,  and  carefully  turning 
the  key — "  no.  Sir,  I  am  only  a  bearer  of  other  men's  goods  ; 
my  morals  are  all  that  I  can  call  my  own,  and  those  I  will  sell 
you  at  your  own  price." 

"  You  are  candid,  my  friend,"  said  I,  "  and  your  frankness, 
alone,  would  be  inestimable  in  this  age  of  deceit,  and  country  of 
hypocrisy." 

"  Ah,  Sir !  "  said  my  new  acquaintance,  "  I  see  already  that 
you  are  one  of  those  persons  who  look  to  the  dark  side  of 
things  ;  for  my  part,  I  think  the  present  age  the  best  that  ever 
existed,  and  our  own  country  the  most  virtuous  in  Europe." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Optimist,  on  your  opinions,"  quoth 
I  ;  "  but  your  observation  leads  me  to  suppose,  that  you  are 
both  an  historian  and  a  traveller  :  am  I  right  ?  " 

"  Why,"  answered  the  box-bearer,  "  I  have  dabbled  a  little  in 
books,  and  wandered  not  a  little  among  men.  I  am  just  re- 
turned from  Germany,  and  am  now  going  to  my  friends  in  Lon- 
don, I  am  charged  with  this  box  of  goods  :  Heaven  send  me 
the  luck  to  deliver  it  safe  !  " 

"  Amen,"  said  I  ;  "  and  with  that  prayer  and  this  trifle  I  wish 
you  a  good  morning." 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times,  Sir,  for  both,"  replied  the  man 
— "  but  do  add  to  your  favors  by  informing  me  of  the  right  road 
to  the  town  of  *  *  *  *." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  2S3 

"  I  am  going  in  that  direction  myself :  if  you  choose  to  ac- 
company me  part  of  the  way,  I  can  ensure  your  not  missing  the 
rest." 

"  Your  honor  is  too  good !  "  returned  he  of  the  box,  rising 
and  slinging  his  fardel  across  him — ''it  is  but  seldom  that  a 
gentleman  of  your  rank  will  condescend  to  walk  three  paces 
with  one  of  mine.  You  smile,  Sir ;  perhaps  you  think  I  should 
not  class  myself  among  gentlemen  ;  and  yet  I  have  as  good  a 
right  to  the  name  as  most  of  the  set.  I  belong  to  no  trade — I 
follow  no  calling  :  I  rove  where  I  list,  and  rest  where  I  please  : 
in  short,  I  know  no  occupation  but  my  indolence,  and  no  law 
but  my  will.     Now,  Sir,  may  I  not  call  myself  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Of  a  surety  !  "  quoth  I.  "  You  seem  to  me  to  hold  a  mid- 
dle rank  between  a  half-penny  captain  and  the  king  of  the 
gipsies." 

"  You  have  hit  it,  Sir,"  rejoined  my  companion,  with  a  slight 
laugh.  He  was  now  by  my  side  and  as  we  walked  on,  I  had 
leisure  more  minutely  to  examine  him.  He  was  a  middle- 
sized,  and  rather  athletic  man,  apparently  about  the  age  of 
thirty-eight.  He  was  attired  in  a  dark-blue  frock  coat,  which 
was  neither  shabby  nor  new,  but  ill  made,  and  much  too  large 
and  long  for  its  present  possessor ;  beneath  this  was  a  faded 
velvet  waistcoat,  that  had  formerly,  like  the  Persian  ambassador's 
tunic,  "blushed  with  crimson,  and  blazed  with  gold;"  but 
which  might  now  have  been  advantageously  exchanged  in  Mon- 
month-street  for  the  lawful  sum  of  two  shillings  and  ninepence  ; 
under  this  was  an  inner  vest  of  the  cashmere  shawl  pattern,  which 
seemed  much  too  new  for  the  rest  of  the  dress.  Though  his 
shirt  was  of  a  very  unwashed  hue,  I  remarked  with  some  sus- 
picion, that  it  was  of  a  very  respectable  fineness  ;  and  a  pin, 
which  might  be  paste,  or  could  be  diamond,  peeped  below  a 
tattered  and  dingy  black  kid  stock,  like  a  gipsy's  eye  beneath 
her  hair. 

His  trowsers  were  of  a  light  grey,  and  the  justice  of  Provi- 
dence, or  of  the  tailor,  avenged  itself  upon  them,  for  the  prodi- 
gal length  bestowed  upon  their  ill-assorted  companion,  the  coat ; 
for  they  were  much  too  tight  for  the  muscular  limbs  they  con- 
cealed, and,  rising  far  above  the  ankle,  exhibited  the  very  pic- 
ture of  Italy  upon  the  map. 

The  face  of  the  man  was  common-place  and  ordinary  ;  one 
sees  a  hundred  such,  every  day,  in  Fleet-street  or  on  the 
'Change  ;  the  features  were  small,  irregular,  and  somewhat  Hat : 
yet  when  you  looked  twice  upon  the  countenance,  there  was 
something  marked  and  sinj;ular  in  the  expression,  which  fully 


284  PELHAM;  OR, 

atoned  for  the  commonness  of  the  featuree.  The  right  eye 
turned  away  from  the  left,  in  that  watchful  squint  whicli  seems 
constructed  on  the  same  considerate  plan  as  those  Irish  guns, 
made  for  shooting  round  a  corner  ;  his  eye-brows  were  large  and 
shaggy,  and  greatly  resembled  bramble  bushes,  in  which  his  fox- 
like eyes  had  taken  refuge.  Round  these  vulpine  retreats  was 
a  labyrinthean  maze  of  those  wrinkles,  vulgarly  called  crow's- 
feet  ;  deep,  intricate,  and  intersected,  they  seemed  for  all  the 
world  like  the  web  of  a  Chancery  suit.  Singular  enough,  the 
rest  of  the  countenance  was  perfectly  smooth  and  unindented; 
even  the  lines  from  the  nostril  to  the  corners  of  the  mouth, 
usually  so  deeply  traced  in  men  of  his  age,  were  scarcely  more 
ajDparent  than  in  a  boy  of  eighteen. 

His  smile  was  frank — his  voice  clear  and  hearty — his  address 
open,  and  much  superior  to  his  apparent  rank  of  life,  claiming 
somewhat  of  equality,  yet  conceding  a  great  deal  of  respect ; 
but,  notwithstanding  all  these  certainly  favorable  points,  there 
was  a  sly  and  cunning  expression  in  his  perverse  and  vigilant 
eye  and  all  the  wrinkled  demesnes  in  its  vicinity,  that  made  me 
mistrust  even  while  I  liked  my  companion  ;  perhaps,  indeed,  he 
was  too  frank,  too  familiar,  too  degage,  to  be  quite  natural.  Your 
honest  men  may  soon  buy  reserve  by  experience.  Rogues  are 
communicative  and  open,  because  confidence  and  openness 
costs  them  nothing.  To  finish  the  description  of  my  new  ac- 
quaintance, I  should  observe  that  there  was  something  in  his 
countenance,  which  struck  me  as  not  wholly  unfamiliar  ;  it  was 
one  of  those  which  we  have  not,  in  all  human  probability,  seen 
before,  and  yet,  which  (perhaps,  from  their  very  commonness) 
we  imagine  we  have  encountered  a  hundred  times. 

We  walked  on  briskly,  notwithstanding  the  warmth  of  the 
day ;  in  fact,  the  air  was  so  pure,  the  grass  so  green,  the  laugh- 
ing noon-day  so  full  of  the  hum,  the  motion,  and  the  life  of  cre- 
ation, that  the  feeling  produced  was  rather  that  of  freshness 
and  invigoration  than  of  languor  and  heat. 

"  We  have  a  beautiful  country,  Sir,"  said  my  hero  of  the  box. 
"  It  is  like  walking  through  a  garden,  after  the  more  sterile  and 
sullen  features  of  the  Continent.  A  pure  mind.  Sir,  loves  the 
country ;  for  my  part,  I  am  always  disposed  to  burst  out  in 
thanksgiving  to  Providence  when  I  behold  its  works,  and  like 
the  valleys  in  the  psalm,  I  am  ready  to  laugh  and  sing." 

"An  enthusiast,"  said  I,  "as  well  as  a  philosopher!  perhaps 
(and  I  believed  it  likely),  I  have  the  honor  of  addressing  a  poet 
also." 

"  Why,  Sir,"  replied  the  man,  "  I  have  made  verses  in  m) 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  285 

life ;  in  short,  there  is  little  I  have  not  done,  for  I  was  always  a 
lover  of  variety  ;  but,  perhaps,  j'our  honor  will  let  me  return  the 
suspicion.     Are  you  not  a  favorite  of  the  muse  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  am,"  said  I.  "  I  value  myself  only  on 
my  common  sense — the  very  antipodes  to  genius,  you  know, 
according  to  the  orthodox  belief." 

"  Common  sense  !  "  repeated  my  companion,  with  a  singular 
and  meaning  smile,  and  a  twinkle  with  his  left  eye.  "  Common 
sense  !  Ah,  that  is  not  my  forte^  Sir.  You,  I  dare  say,  are  one 
of  those  gentlemen  whom  it  is  very  difificult  to  take  in,  either 
passively  or  activel}^,  by  appearance,  or  in  act  !  For  my  part,  I 
have  been  a  dupe  all  my  life — a  child  might  cheat  me  !  I  am 
the  most  unsuspicious  person  in  the  world." 

"  Too  candid  by  half,"  thought  I.  "  The  man  is  certainly  a 
rascal :  but  what  is  that  to  me .''  I  shall  never  see  him  again  ;  " 
and,  true  to  my  love  of  never  losing  sight  of  an  opportunity  of 
ascertaining  individual  character,  I  observed  that  I  thought 
such  an  acquaintance  very  valuable,  especially  if  he  were  in 
trade ;  it  was  a  pity,  therefore,  for  my  sake,  that  my  companion 
had  informed  me  that  he  followed  no  calling. 

"  Why,  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  am^  occasionally,  in  emplojanent ; 
my  nominal  profession  is  that  of  a  broker.  I  buy  shawls  and 
handkerchiefs  of  poor  countesses,  and  retail  to  rich  plebeians. 
I  fit  up  new-married  couples  with  linen,  at  a  more  moderate 
rate  than  the  shops,  and  procure  the  bridegroom  his  present  of 
jewels,  at  forty  per  cent  less  than  the  jewellers ;  nay,  I  am  as 
friendly  to  an  intrigue  as  a  marriage  ;  and  when  I  cannot  sell 
my  jewels,  I  will  my  good  offices.  A  gentleman  so  handsome  as 
your  honor,  may  have  an  affair  upon  your  hands :  if  so,  you  may 
rely  upon  my  secrecy  and  zeal.  In  short,  I  am  an  innocent, 
good-natured  fellow,  who  does  harm  to  no  one  for  nothing,  and 
good  to  every  one  for  something." 

"  I  admire  your  code,"  quoth  I,  "  and  whenever  I  want  a  me- 
diator between  Venus  and  myself,  will  employ  you.  Have  you 
always  followed  your  present  idle  profession,  or  were  you 
brought  up  to  any  other  1 " 

"  1  was  intended  for  a  silversmith,"  answered  my  friend,  "  but 
Providence  willed  it  otherwise  ;  they  taught  me  from  childhood 
to  repeat  the  Lord's  prayer;  Heaven  heard  me,  and  delivered 
me  from  temptation — there  is,  indeed,  something  terribly  seduc- 
ing in  the  face  of  a  silver  spoon  !  " 

".Well,"  said  I,  "ycni  are  the  honestest  knave  I  ever  met,  and 
one  would  trust  you  with  one's  purse  for  tiie  ingenuousness  with 
which  you  own  you  would  steal  it.     Pray,  think  you  it  is  proba- 


286  PELHAM ;  OR, 

ble  that  I  have  ever  had  the  happiness  to  meet  you  before  ?  I 
cannot  help  fancying  so — yet  as  I  have  never  been  in  the  watch- 
house,  or  the  Old  Eailey,  my  reason  tells  me  that  I  must  be  mis- 
taken." 

"  Not  at  all,  Sir,"  returned  my  worthy  :  "  I  remember  you 
well,  for  I  never  saw  a  face  like  yours  that  I  did  ;/<?/ remember, 
I  had  the  honor  of  sipping  some  British  liquors  in  the  same  room 
with  yourself,  one  evening  ;  you  were  then  in  company  with  my 
friend  Mr,  Gordon, 

"  Ha  !  "  said  I,  "  I  thank  you  for  the  hint,  I  now  remember 
well,  by  the  same  token,  he  told  me  that  you  were  the  most  in- 
genious gentleman  in  England;  and  that  you  had  a  happy  pro- 
pensity of  mistaking  other  people's  possessions  for  your  own. 
I  congratulate  myself  upon  so  desirable  an  acquaintance." 

My  friend,  who  was  indeed  no  other  than  Mr.  Job  Jonson, 
smiled  with  his  usual  blandness,  and  made  me  a  low'  bow  of 
acknowledgment  before  he  resumed  : — 

"  No  doubt,  Sir,  Mr.  Gordon  informed  you  right.  I  flatter 
myself  few  gentlemen  understand  better  than  myself,  the  art  of 
appropriation  ;  though  I  say  it  who  should  not  say  it,  I  deserve 
the  reputation  I  have  acquired.  Sir,  I  have  always  had  ill  for- 
tune to  struggle  against  and  have  always  remedied  it  by  two 
virtues — perseverance  and  ingenuity.  To  give  you  an  idea  of 
my  ill  fortune,  know  that  I  have  been  taken  up  twenty-three 
times  on  suspicion  ;  of  my  perseverance  know  that  twenty-three 
times  I  have  been  taken  up  justly  ;  and  of  my  ingenuity,  know 
that  I  have  been  twenty-three  times  let  off,  because  there  was 
not  a  tittle  of  legal  evidence  against  me  !  " 

"  I  venerate  your  talents,  Mr.  Jonson,"  replied  I,  "  if  by  the 
name  of  Jonson  it  pleaseth  you  to  be  called,  although,  like  the 
heathen  deities,  I  presume  that  you  have  many  titles,  whereof 
some  are  more  grateful  to  your  ears  than  others." 

"  Nay,"  answered  the  man  of  two  virtues — "  I  am  never 
ashamed  of  my  name  ;  indeed,  I  have  never  done  any  thing  to 
disgrace  me,  I  have  never  indulged  in  low  company,  nor  profli- 
gate debauchery  ;  whatever  I  have  executed  by  way  of  profes- 
sion, has  been  done  in  a  superior  and  artist-like  manner ;  not  in 
the  rude  bungling  fashion  of  other  adventurers.  Moreover,  I 
have  always  had  a  taste  for  polite  literature,  and  went  once  as 
an  apprentice  to  a  publishing  bookseller,  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  reading  the  new  works  before  they  came  out.  In  fine,  I  have 
never  neglected  any  opportunity  of  improving  my  mind  ;  and 
the  worst  that  can  be  said  against  me  is,  that  I  have  remem- 
bered my  catechism,  and  taken  all  possible  pains  '  to  learn  and 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  287 

labor  truly,  to  get  my  living  and  do  my  duty  in  that  state  of 
life,  to  which  it  has  pleased  Providence  to  call  me.'  " 

"  I  have  often  heard,"  answered  I,  "  that  there  is  honor 
among  thieves  ;  I  am  happy  to  learn  from  you,  that  there  is  also 
religion ;  your  baptismal  sponsors  must  be  proud  of  so  diligent 
a  godson." 

"  They  ought  to  be,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Jonson,  "  for  I  gave 
them  the  first  specimens  of  my  address  :  the  story  is  long,  but 
if  you  ever  give  me  an  opportunity,  I  will  relate  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I ;  "  meanwhile  I  must  wish  you  a  good 
morning  ;  your  road  now  lies  to  the  right.  I  return  you  my  best 
thanksfor  your  condescension  in  accompanying  so  undistinguish- 
ed an  individual  as  myself." 

"  Oh  never  mention  it,  your  honor,"  rejoined  Mr.  Jonson.  "  I 
am  always  too  happy  to  walk  with  a  gentleman  of  your  'common 
sense.'     Farewell,  Sir;  may  we  meet  again." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Jonson  struck  into  his  new  road  and  we 
parted.* 

I  went  home,  musing  on  my  adventure,  and  delighted  with 
my  adventurer.  When  I  was  about  three  paces  from  the  door 
of  my  home,  I  was  accosted,  in  a  most  pitiful  tone,  by  a  poor 
old  beggar,  apparently  in  the  last  extreme  of  misery  and  disease. 
Notwithstanding  my  political  economy,  I  was  moved  into  alms- 
giving by  a  spectacle  so  wretched.  I  put  my  hand  into  my  pock- 
et, my  purse  was  gone ;  and,  on  searching  the  other,  lo — my 
handkerchief,  my  pocket-book,  and  a  gold  locket,  which  had 
belonged  to  Madame  d'Anville,  had  vanished  too. 

One  does  not  keep  company  with  men  of  two  virtues,  and  re- 
ceive compliments  upon  one's  common  sense,  for  nothing  ! 

The  begger  still  continued  to  importune  me. 

"Give  him  some  food  and  half  a  crown,"  said  I,  to  my  land- 
lady. Two  hours  afterwards,  she  came  to  me — "  Oh,  Sir,  my- 
silver  tea-pot — that  villain  the  beggar  /" 

A  light  flashed  upon  me — "Ah,  Mr.  Job  Jonson!  Mr.  Job 
Jonson  !"  cried  1,  in  an  indescribable  rage;  "  out  of  my  sight, 
woman  !  out  of  my  sight !  "  I  stopped  short;  my  speech  failed 
me.  Never  tell  me  that  shame  is  the  companion  of  guilt — the 
sinful  knave  is  never  so  ashamed  of  himself  as  is  the  innocent  fool 
who  suffers  by  him. 

•  If  any  one  should  think  this  sketch  from  nature  exaggerated,  I  refer  him  to  the 
"Memoirs  of  James  Hardy  Vaux." 


288  PELHAM  ;  OR, 


CHAPTER    LXX. 

Then  must  I  plunge  again  into  the  crowd, 

And  follow  all  that  peace  disdains  to  seek. — Byron. 

In  the  quiet  of  my  retreat  I  remained  for  eight  days — during 
which  time  I  never  looked  once  at  a  newspaper — imagine  how 
great  was  my  philosophy !  On  the  ninth,  I  began  to  think  it 
high  time  for  me  to  hear  from  Dawton  ;  and  finding  that  I  had 
eaten  two  rolls  for  breakfast,  and  that  certain  untimely  wrinkles 
began  to  assume  a  more  mitigated  appearance,  I  bethought  me 
once  more  of  the  "  Beauties  of  Babylon." 

While  I  was  in  this  kindly  mood  towards  the  great  city  and  its 
inhabitants,  my  landlady  put  two  letters  in  my  hand — one  was 
from  my  mother,  the  other  from  Guloseton.  I  opened  the  latter 
first ;  it  ran  thus — 

"  Dear  Pelham, 

"  I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  you  had  left  town — and  so  unexpect- 
edly too.  I  obtained  your  address  at  Mivart's  and  hasten  to 
avail  myself  of  it.  Pray  come  to  town  immediately.  I  have 
received  some  chevreuil  as  a  present,  and  long  for  your  opinion  ; 
it  is  too  nice  to  keep  :  for  all  things  nice  were  made  but  to  grow 
bad  when  nicest :  as  Moore,  I  believe,  says  of  flowers,  substitut- 
ing sweet  and  fleetest  forbad  and  nicest ;  so,  you  see,  you  must 
come  without  loss  of  time. 

"  But  yoii,  my  friend — how  can  you  possibly  have  been  spend- 
ing your  time  ?  I  was  kept  awake  all  last  night,  by  thinking  what 
you  could  have  for  dinner.  Fish  is  out  of  the  question  in  the 
country ;  chickens  die  of  the  pip  everywhere  but  in  London  ; 
game  is  out  of  season  ;  it  is  impossible  to  send  to  Giblett's  for 
meat ;  it  is  equally  impossible  to  get  it  anywhere  else ;  and  as 
for  the  only  two  natural  productions  of  the  country,  vegetables 
and  eggs,  I  need  no  extraordinary  penetration  to  be  certain  that 
your  cook  cannot  transmute  the  latter  into  an  omelette aux huitres, 
nor  the  former  into  legumes  a  la  crane. 

"  Thus  you  see,  by  a  series  of  undeniable  demonstrations,  you 
viust  absolutely  be  in  a  state  of  starvation.  At  this  thought,  tears 
rush  into  my  eyes  :  for  Heaven's  sake,  for  my  sake,  for  your 
own  sake,  but  above  all,  for  the  sake  of  the  chevreuil,  hasten  to 
London.  I  figure  you  to  myself  in  the  last  stage  of  atrophy — 
airy  as  a  trifle,  thin  as  the  ghost  of  a  greyhound. 

*'  I  need  say  no  more  on  the  subject.     I  may  rely  on  your  own 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  2S9 

discretion  to  procure  me  the  immediate  pleasure  of  your  company. 
Indeed,  were  I  to  dwell  longer  on  your  melancholy  situation,  my 
feelings  would  overcome  me, — Mais  rci'enons  a  nos  vioutons :  (a 
most  pertinent  phrase,  by  the  bye — oh  !  the  French  excel  us  in 
everything,  from  the  paramount  science  of  cookery,  to  the  little 
art  of  conversation.) 

"  You  must  tell  me  your  candid,  your  unbiassed,  your  deliber- 
ate opinion  of  chevreuil.  For  my  part,  I  should  not  wonder  at 
the  mythology  of  the  northern  heathen  nations,  which  places 
hunting  among  the  chief  enjoyments  of  their  heaven,  were  chev- 
reuil the  object  of  their  chase  ;  but  nihil  est  o?nni  parte  beattim  ; 
— it  wants  7^?/,  my  dear  Pelham,  it  wants  fat :  nor  do  I  see  how 
to  remedy  this  defect ;  for  were  we  by  art  to  supply  the  fat  we 
should  deprive  ourselves  of  the  Havor  bestowed  by  nature  ;  and 
this,  my  dear  Pelham,  was  always  my  great  argument  for  libertv. 
Cooped,  chained,  and  confined  in  cities,  and  slavery,  all  things 
lose  the  fresh  and  gcmroiis  tastes,  which  it  is  the  peculiar  bless- 
ing of  freedom  and  the  country  to  afford. 

"  Tell  me,  my  friend,  what  has  been  the  late  subject  of  your 
reflections  ?  My  thoughts  have  dwelt,  much  and  seriously,  on 
the  '  terra  incognita,'  the  undiscovered  tracts  in  the  pays  culi- 
naire,  which  the  profoundest  investigators  have  left  untouched 

and  unexplored  in veal.     But  more  of  this  hereafter ; — the 

lightness  of  a  letter  is  ill  suited  to  the  depths  of  philosophical 
research. 

"  Lord  Dawton  sounded  me  upon  my  votes  yesterday.  '  A 
thousand  pities  too,'  said  he,  '  that  you  never  speak  in  the 
House  of  Lords.' — '■  Orator  fit,' said  I — ^orators  are  subject  to 
apoplexy.'' 

"'Adieu,  my  dear  friend,  for  friend  you  are,  if  the  philosopher 
was  right  in  defining  true  friendship  to  consist  in  liking  and 
disliking  the  same  things.  You  hate  parsnips  au  natnrel — so 
do  I  ;  you  \o\q  pates  defoie  gras,  ct  moi  aussi ; — nous  voila  done 
Ics  meilleurs  amis  du  monde  I 

"  GULOSETON." 

So  much  for  my  friend,  thought  T — and  now  for  my  mother 
— opening  the  maternal  epistle,  which  1  herewilh  transcribe  : — 

"  My  Dear  Henry, 

"  Lose  no  time  in  coming  to  town.  Every  day  the  ministers 
are  filling  up  the  minor  places,  and  it  requires  a  great  stretch 
of  recollection   in  a  politician  to    remember  <he- absent.     Mr, 

'9 


290  PELHAM ;  OR, 

V said  yesterday,  at  a  dinner  party  where  I  was  present, 

tliat  Lord  Dawton  had  promised  him  the  Borough  of .     Now 

you  know,  my  dear  Henry,  that  was  the  very  borough  he  prom- 
ised to  you  :  you  must  see  further  into  this.  Lord  Dawton  is  a 
good  sort  of  man  enough,  but  refused  once  to  fight  a  duel ; 
therefore,  if  he  has  disregarded  his  honor  in  one  instance,  he 
may  do  so  in  another:  at  all  events,  you  have  no  time  to  lose. 

"  The  young  Duke  of gives  a  ball  to-morrow  evening  : 

Mrs. pays  all  the  expenses,  and  I  know  for  a  certainty  that 

she  will  marry  him  in  a  week  ;  this  as  yet  is  a  secret.  There 
will  be  a  great  mixture,  but  the  ball  will  be  worth  going  to. 
I  have  a  card  for  you. 

'"Lady  Huffemall  and  I  think  that  we  shall  not  patronize  the 
future  duchess ;  but  have  not  yet  made  up  our  minds.  Lady 
Roseville,  however,  speaks  of  the  intended  match  with  great 
respect,  and  says  that  since  we  admit  convenance,  as  the  chief 
rule  in  matrimony,  she  never  remembers  an  instance  in  which 
it  has  been  more  consulted. 

"  There  are  to  be  several  promotions  in   the  peerage.     Lord 

■ 's  friends  wish  to  give  out  that  he  will  have  a  dukedom  ; 

mats  fen  doiile.  However,  he  has  well  deserved  it ;  for  he  not 
only  gives  the  best  dinners  in  town,  but  the  best  account  of 
them  in  the  Morning  Post  afterwards  ;  which  I  think  is  very 
properly  upholding  the  dignity  of  our  order. 

"  I  hope  most  earnestly  that  you  do  not  (in  your  country 
retreat)  neglect  your  health  ;  nor,  I  may  add,  your  mind  ;  and 
that  you  take  an  opportunity  every  other  day  of  practising 
waltzing,  which  you  can  very  well  do  with  the  help  of  an  arm- 
chair.    I  would  send  you  down  (did  I  not  expect  you  here  so 

soon)  Lord  Mount  E 's  '  Musical  Reminiscences  ; '  not  only 

because  it  is  a  very  entertaining  book,  but  because  I  wish  you 
to  pay  much  greater  attention  to  music  than  you  seem  inclined 
to  do.  *  *  *  *  Who  is  never  very  refined  in  his  bans  mots,  says 
that  Lord  M.  seems  to  have  considered  the  world  a  concert,  in 
which  the  best  performer  plays  first  fiddle.  It  is,  indeed,  quite 
delightful  to  see  the  veneration  our  musical  friend  has  for  the 
orchestra  and  its  occupants.  I  wish  to  heaven,  my  dear  Henry, 
he  could  instil  into  you  a  little  of  his  ardor.  I  am  quite  morti- 
fied at  times  by  your  ignorance  of  tunes  and  operas  :  nothing 
tells  better  in  conversation  than  a  knowledge  of  music,  as  you 
will  one  day  or  other  discover. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dearest  Henry.  Fully  expecting  you,  I 
have  sent  to  engage  your  former  rooms  at  Mivart's  ;  do  not  let 
me  be  disappointed.     Yours,  etc.,  F.  P." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  291 

I  read  the  above  letter  twice  over,  and  felt  my  cheek  glow 
and  my  heart  swell  as  I  perused  the  passage  relative  to  Lord 
Dawton  and  the  borough.  The  new  minister  had  certainly,  for 
some  weeks  since,  been  playing  a  double  part  with  me  :  it  would 
long  ago  have  been  easy  to  procure  me  a  subordinate  situation 
— still  easier  to  place  me  in  parliament ;  yet  he  had  contented 
himself  with  doubtful  promises  and  idle  civilities.  What,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  me  most  unaccountable  was,  his  motive  in 
breaking  or  paltering  with  his  engagement  ;  he  knew  that  I  had 
served  him  and  his  party  better  than  half  his  corps  :  he  prO' 
fessed,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  society,  the  highest  opinion  of  my 
abilities,  knowledge,  and  application ;  he  saw,  consequently, 
how  serviceable  I  could  be  as  a  friend  ;  and,  from  the  same 
qualities,  joined  to  the  rank  of  my  birth  and  connections,  and 
the  high  and  resentful  temper  of  my  mind,  he  might  readily 
augur  that  I  could  be  equally  influential  as  a  foe. 

With  this  reflection,  I  stilled  the  beating  of  my  heart,  and  the 
fever  of  my  pulse.  I  crushed  the  obnoxious  letter  in  my  hand, 
walked  thrice  up  and  down  the  room,  paused  at  the  bell — rang 
it  violently — ordered  post-horses  instantly,  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  was  on  the  toad  to  London. 

How  different  is  the  human  mind,  according  to  the  diiTerence 
of  place  !  In  our  passions,  as  in  our  creeds,  we  are  the  mere 
dependants  of  geographical  situation.  Nay,  the  trifling  varia- 
tion of  a  single  mile  will  revolutionize  the  whole  tides  and  tor- 
rents of  our  hearts.  The  man  who  is  meek,  generous,  benevo- 
lent, and  kind,  in  the  country,  enters  the  scene  of  contest,  and 
becomes  forthwith  fiery  or  mean,  selfish  or  stern,  just  as  if  the 
virtues  were  only  for  solitude,  and  the  vices  for  the  city.  I  have 
ill  expressed  the  above  reflection  ;  n'importe — so  much  the  bet- 
ter shall  I  explain  my  feelings  at  the  time  I  speak  of — for  I  was 
then  too  eager  and  engrossed  to  attend  to  the  niceties  of  words. 
On  my  arrival  at  Mivart's,  I  scarcely  allowed  myself  time  to 
change  my  dress  before  I  set  out  to  Lord  Dawton.  He  shall 
afford  me  an  explanation,  I  thought,  or  a  recompense,  or  a  re- 
venge. I  knocked  at  the  door — the  minister  was  out.  "  Give 
him  this  card,"  said  I  to  the  porter,  "  and  say  I  shall  call  to- 
morrow at  three." 

I   walked   to    Brookes's — there    I    met    Mr.    V .       My 

acquaintance  with  him  was  small  ,•  but  he  was  a  man  of  talent, 
and  what  was  more  to  my  purpose,  of  open  manners.  I  went 
up  to  him,  and  we  entered  into  conversation.  "  Is  it  true," 
said  I,  "  that  I  am  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  certainty  of 
your  return  fur  Lord  Dawton's  borough  of 1 


)> 


292  PEL f/ AM;  OR, 

"  I  believe  so,"  replied  V .     "  Lord  Dawton  engaged  it 

to  me  last  week,  and  Mr.  H ,  the  present  member,  has  ac- 
cepted the  Chiltern  Hundreds.  You  know  all  our  family  sup- 
ported Lord  Dawton  warmly  in  the  present  crisis  and  my 
return  for  this  borough  was  materially  insisted  upon.  Such 
things  are,  you  see,  Mr.  Pelhara,  even  in  these  virtuous  days  of 
parliamentary  purity." 

"  True,"  said  I,  dissembling  my  chagrin,  "  yourself  and  Daw- 
ton have  made  an  admirable  exchange.  Think  you  the  minis- 
try can  be  said  to  be  fairly  seated  ?  " 

"  By  no  means  ;  everything  depends  upon  the  motion  of , 

brought  on  next  week.  Dawton  looks  to  that  as  to  the  decisive 
battle  for  this  session." 

Lord  Gavelton  now  joined  us,  and  I  sauntered  away  with  the 
utmost  (seeming)  indifference.  At  the  top  of  St.  James's-street, 
Lady  Roseville's  well-known  carriage  passed  me — she  stopped 

for  a  moment.     "  We  shall  meet  at  the  Duke  of 's  to-night," 

said  she,  "  shall  we  not  ?  " 

"  If  you  go — certainly,"  I  replied. 

I  went  home  to  my  solitary  apartment ;  and  if  I  suffered 
somewhat  of  the  torments  of  baffled  hope  and  foiled  ambition, 
the  pang  is  for  the  spectator.  My  lighter  moments  are  for  the 
world — my  deeper  for  myself ;  and,  like  the  Spartan  boy,  I 
would  keep  even  in  the  pangs  of  death,  a  mantle  over  the  teeth 
and  fangs  which  were  fastening  upon  my  breast. 


CHAPTER  LXXL 

Nccet  empta  dolore  voluptas. — OviD. 

The  Jirsf  person  I  saw  at  the  Duke  of 's  was  Mr.  Mivart — 

he  officiated  as  gentleman  usher  :  the  seco7id  was  my  mother — 
she  was,  as  usual,  surrounded  by  men,  "  the  shades  of  heroes 
that  have  been,"  remnants  of  a  former  day,  when  the  feet  of  the 
young  and  fair  Lady  Frances  were  as  light  as  her  head,  and  she 
might  have  rivalled,  in  the  science  de  la  danse,  even  the  graceful 

Duchess  of  B d.     Over  the  dandies  of  her  own  time  she  still 

preserved  her  ancient  empire  ;  and  it  was  amusing  enough  to 
hear  the  address  of  the  •  ci-devant  jeunes  ho7mnes  who  continued, 
through  habit,  the  compliments  began  thirty  years  since  through 
admiration. 

My  mother  was,  indeed,  what  the  world  calls  a  very  charming. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  293 

agreeable  woman.  Few  persons  were  more  popular  in  society : 
her  manners  were  perfection — her  smile  enchantment :  she  lived, 
moved,  breathed,  only  for  the  world,  and  the  world  was  not  un- 
grateful for  the  constancy  of  her  devotion.  Yet,  if  her  letters 
have  given  my  readers  any  idea  of  her  character,  they  will  per- 
ceive that  the  very  desire  of  supremacy  in  t07i,  gave  (Heaven  for- 
give  my  filial  impiety !)  a  sort  of  demi-vulgarism  to  her  ideas; 
for  they  who  live  wholly  for  the  opinion  of  others,  always  want 
that  self-dignity  which  alone  confers  a  high  cast  upon  the  senti- 
ments ;  and  the  most  really  unexceptionable  in  mode,  are  fre- 
quently the  least  genuinely  patrician  in  mind. 

I  joined  the  maternal  party,  and  Lady  Frances  soon  took  an 
opportunity  of  whispering,  "You  are  looking  very  well,  and  very 
handsome  ;  I  declare  you  are  not  unlike  me,  especially  about  the 
eyes.  I  have  just  heard  that  Miss  Glanville  will  be  a  great 
heiress,  for  the  poor  Sir  Reginald  cannot  live  much  longer.  She 
is  here  to-night ;  pray  do  not  lose  the  opportunity." 

My  cheek  burned  like  fire  at  this  speech,  and  my  mother, 
quietly  observing  that  I  had  a  beautiful  color,  and  ought  there- 
fore immediately  to  find  out  Miss  Glanville,  lest  it  should  vanish 
by  the  least  delay,  turned  from  me  to  speak  of  a  public  break- 
fast about  shortly  to  be  given.  I  passed  into  the  dancing-room  ; 
there  I  found  Vincent ;  he  was  in  unusually  good  spirits. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  sneer,  "  you  have  not  taken  your  seat 
yet.  I  suppose  Lord  Dawton's  representative,  whose  place  you 
are  to  supply,  is  like  Tlieseus  ;  scdet  in  ceterniimque  sedebit.  A 
thousand  pities  you  can't  come  in  before  next  week ;  we  shall 
then  have  fiery  motions  in  the  Lower  House,  as  the  astrologers 
say." 

I  smiled.  ^^  Ah  mon  cher!"  said  I,  "Sparta  hath  many  a 
worthier  son  than  me  !  Meanwhile,  how  get  on  the  noble  Lords 
Lesborough  and  Lincoln?  'sure  such  a  pair  were  never  seen,  so 
justly  formed  to  meet  by  nature  !  '  " 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Vincent,  coarsely,  "  they  shall  get  on  well 
enough,  before  you  get  in.  Look  to  yourself,  and  remember 
that  '  Cajsar  plays  the  ingrate.'  " 

Vincent  turned  away  ;  my  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  ground ; 

the  beautiful  Lady passed  by  me  :  "  What,  you  in  a  reverie  ? " 

said  she,  laughing  ;  "  our  very  host  will  turn  thoughtful  next  !  " 

"Nay,"  said  I,  "in  your  absence  would  you  have  me  glad.' 
However,  if  Moore's  mythology  be  true — Beauty  loves  Folly  the 
better  for  borrowing  something  from  Reason  ;  but,  come,  this  is 
a  place  not  for  the  grave,  but  the  giddy.  Let  us  join  the  waltz- 
ers." 


294  PELHAM ;  OR, 


"  I  am  engaged. 


"  I  know  it  I  Do  you  think  I  would  dance  with  any  woman 
who  was  not  engaged  ? — there  would  be  no  triumph  to  one's  van- 
ity in  that  case.  AHofis,  you  ;;?//^/ prefer  me  to  an  engagement ;  " 
and  so  saying,  I  led  off  my  prize. 

Her  intended  partner  was   Mr.  V ;  just  as  we  had  joined 

the  dancers,  he  spied  us  out,  and  approached  with  his  long, 
serious,  respectful  face  :  the  music  struck  up,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment poor  V- was  very  nearly  struck  down.      Fraught  with 

the  most  political  spite,  I  whirled  up  against  him ;  apologized 
with  my  blandest  smile,  and  left  him  wiping  his  mouth,  and  rub- 
bing his  shoulder,  the  most  forlorn  picture  of  Hope  in  adversity, 
that  can  possibly  be  conceived. 

I  soon  grew  weary  of  my  partner,  and,  leaving  her  to  fate, 
rambled  into  another  room.  There,  seated  alone,  was  Lady 
Roseville.  I  placed  myself  beside  her ;  there  was  a  sort  of  free- 
masonry between  her  and  myself  ;  each  knew  something  more 
of  the  other  than  the  world  did,  and  read  his  or  her  heart,  by 
other  signs  than  words.  I  soon  saw  that  she  was  in  no  mirthful 
mood  :  so  much  the  better — she  was  the  fitter  companion  for  a 
baffled  aspirant  like  me. 

The  room  we  were  in  was  almost  deserted,  and  finding  our- 
selves uninterrupted,  the  stream  of  our  conversation  flowed  into 
sentiment. 

"  How  little,"  said  Lady  Roseville,  "  can  the  crowd  know  of 
the  individuals  who  compose  it !  As  the  most  opposite  colors 
may  be  blended  into  one,  and  so  lose  their  individual  hues,  and 
be  classed  under  a  single  name,  so  every  one  here  will  go  home, 
and  speak  of  the  ''gay  scene,'  without  thinking  for  a  moment,  how 
many  breaking  hearts  may  have  composed  it." 

"I  have  often  thought,"  said  I,  "how  harsh  we  are  in  our 
judgments  of  others — how  often  we  accuse  those  persons  of  be- 
ing worldly,  who  merely  seem  so  to  the  world.  Who,  for  instance, 
that  saw  you  in  your  brightest  moments,  would  ever  suppose  that 
you  could  make  the  confession  you  have  just  made  .''  " 

"  I  would  not  make  such  a  confession  to  many  beside  your- 
self," answered  Lady  Roseville.  "  Na)',  you  need  not  thank  me. 
I  am  some  years  older  than  you  ;  I  have  lived  longer  in  the 
world ;  I  have  seen  much  of  its  various  characters  ;  and  my  ex- 
perience has  taught  me  to  penetrate  and  prize  a  character  like 
yours.  While  you  seem  frivolous  to  the  superficial,  I  know  you 
to  have  a  mind  not  only  capable  of  the  most  solid  and  important 
affairs,  but  habituated  by  reflection  to  consider  them.  You  ap- 
pear effeminate,  I  know  that  none  are  more   daring — indolent, 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  295 

none  are  more  actively  ambitious — utterly  selfish,  and  I  know 
that  no  earthly  interest  could  bribe  you  into  meanness  or  injus- 
tice— no,  nor  even  into  a  venial  dereliction  of  principle.  It  is 
from  this  estimate  of  your  character,  that  I  am  frank  and  open 
to  you.  Besides,  I  recognize  something  in  the  careful  pride 
with  which  you  conceal  your  higher  and  deeper  feelings,  resem- 
bling the  strongest  actuating  principle  in  my  own  mind.  All 
this  interests  me  warmly  in  your  fate  ;  may  it  be  as  bright  as  my 
presentiments  forebode  !  " 

1  looked  into  the  beautiful  face  of  the  speaker  as  she  con- 
cluded ;  perhaps,  at  that  solitary  moment,  my  heart  was  un- 
faithful to  Ellen  ;  but  the  infidelity  passed  away  like  the  breath 
from  the  mirror.  Coxcomb  as  I  was,  I  knew  well  how  passion- 
less was  the  interest  expressed  for  me.  Rover  as  I  had  been,  I 
knew  also,  how  pure  may  be  the  friendship  of  a  woman, — -pro- 
vided she  loves  another  ! 

I  thanked  Lady  Roseville,  warmly,  for  her  opinion.  "  Per- 
haps," I  added,  "  dared  I  solicit  your  advice,  you  would  not 
find  me  wholly  undeserving  of  your  esteem." 

*'  My  advice,"  answered  Lacly  Roseville,  "  would  be,  indeed, 
worse  than  useless,  were  it  not  regulated  by  a  certain  knowledge 
which,  perhaps,  you  do  not  possess.  You  seem  surprised.  Eh 
bien  ;  listen  to  me — are  vou  not  in  no  small  decree  lie  with  Lord 
Dawton  ? — do  you  not  expect  something  from  him  worthy  of 
your  rank  and  merit  ?  " 

"  You  do,  indeed,  surprise  me,"  said  L  "  However  close  my 
connection  with  Lord  Dawton  may  be,  I  thought  it  much  more 
secret  than  it  appears  to  be.  However,  I  own  that  I  have  a 
right  to  expect  from  Lord  Dawton,  not,  perhaps,  a  recompense 
of  service,  but,  at  least,  a  fulfilment  of  promises.  In  this  ex- 
pectation I  begm  to  believe  I  shall  be  deceived." 

"  You  will !  "  answered  Lady  Roseville.  "  Bend  your  head 
lower — the  walls  have  ears.  You  have  a  friend,  an  unwearied 
and  earnest  friend,  with  those  now  in  power  ;  directly  he  heard 

that  Mr.V was  promised   the  borough,  which  he  knew  had 

been  long  engaged  to  you,  he  went  straight  to  Lord  Dawton. 
He  found  him  with  Lord  Clandonald  :  however,  he  opened  the 
matter  immediately.  He  spoke  with  great  warmth  of  your 
claims — he  did  more — he  incorporated  them  with  his  own,  which 
are  of  no  mean  order,  and  asked  no  other  recompense  for  him- 
self than  the  fulfilment  of  a  long-made  promise  to  you.  Daw- 
ton was  greatly  confused,  and  Lord  Clandonald  replied,  for 
him,  that  certainly  there  was  no  denying  your  talents — that  they 
were  very  great — that  you  had,  unquestionably,  been  of  much 


296  PELHAM;  OR, 

service  to  their  party,  and  that,  consequent!)',  it  must  be  pohtic 
to  attach  you  to  their  interests  ;  but  that  there  was  a  certain 
fierte  and  assumption,  and  he  might  say  (mark  the  climax)  inde- 
pendence about  you,  wliich  could  not  but  be  highly  displeasing  in 
one  so  young ;  moreover,  that  it  was  impossible  to  trust  to  you — that 
you  pledged  yourself  to  no  party — that  you  spoke  only  of  condi- 
tions and  terms — that  you  treated  the  proposal  of  placing  you  in 
Parliament  rather  as  a  matter  of  favor  on  your  part  than  on  Lord 
Dawton's — and,  in  a  word,  that  there  was  no  relying  upon  you. 
Lord  Dawton  then  took  courage,  and  chimed  in,  with  a  long 

panegyric   on  V and  a  long   account  of  what  was  due   to 

him,  and  to  the  zeal  of  his  family  :  adding,  that,  in  a  crisis 
like  this,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  engage  a  certain  rather 
than  a  doubtful  and  undecided  support ;  that,  for  his  part,  if  he 
placed  you  in  Parliament,  he  thought  you  quite  as  likely  to 
prove  a  foe  as  a  friend  ;  that  owing  to  the  marriage  of  yout 
uncle,  your  expectations  were  by  no  means  commensurate  with 
your  presumption,  and  that  the  same  talents  which  made  your 
claims  to  favor  as  an  ally,  created  also  no  small  danger  in 
placing  you  in  any  situation  where  you  could  become  hurtful  as 
an  enemy.  All  this,  and  much  more  to  the  same  purpose,  was 
strenuously  insisted  upon  by  the  worthy  pair ;  and  your  friend 
was  obliged  to  take  his  leave,  perfectly  convinced  that,  unless 
you  assumed  a  more  complaisant  bearing,  or  gave  a  more  de- 
cided pledge,  to  the  new  minister,  it  was  hopeless  for  you  to 
expect  anything  from  him,  at  least  for  the  present.  The  fact  is, 
he  stands  too  much  in  awe  of  you,  and  would  rather  keep  you 
out  of  the  House  than  contribute  an  iota  towards  obtaining  you 
a  seat.     Upon  all  this  you  may  rely  as  certain," 

"I  thank  you  from  my  heart,"  said  I  warmly,  seizing  and 
pressing  Lady  Roseville's  hand,  "  You  tell  me  what  I  have 
long  suspected  ;.  I  am  now  upon  my  guard,  and  they  shall  find 
that  I  can  ^fend  as^well  as  (/t'fend.  But  it  is  no  time  for  me  to 
boast ;  oblige  me  by  informing  me  of  the  name  of  my  unknown 
friend  ;  I  little  thought  there  was  a  being  in  the  world  who 
would  stir  three  steps  for  Henry  Pelham," 

"That  friend,"  replied  Lady  Roseville,  with  a  faltering  voice 
and  a  glowing  cheek,  "  was  Sir  Reginald  Glanville." 

"  What !  "  cried  I,  "  repeat  the  name  to  me  again,  or — "  I 
paused,  and  recovered  myself.  "  Sir  Reginald  Glanville,"  I 
resumed  haughtily,  "  is  too  gracious  to  enter  into  my  affairs.  I 
must  be  strangely  altered  if  I  need  the  officious  zeal  of  a7iy  in- 
termeddler  to  redress  my  wrongs." 

*'  Nay,   Mr.   Pelham,"  said  the  countess,  hastily,    "  you  do 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  297 

Glanville — you  do  yourself  injustice.  For  him,  there  never 
passes  a  day  in  which  he  does  not  mention  you  with  the 
highest  encomiums  and  the  most  affectionate  regard.  He  says 
of  late,  that  you  have  altered  towards  him,  but  that  he  is  not 
surprised  at  the  change — he  never  mentions  the  cause  ;  if  I  am 
not  intruding,  suffer  me  to  inquire  into  it ;  perhaps  (oh  !  how 
happy  it  would  make  me)  I  may  be  able  to  reconcile  you  ;  if  you 
knew — if  you  could  but  guess  half  of  the  noble  and  lofty  char- 
acter of  Reginald  Glanville,  you  would  suffer  no  petty  difference 
to  divide  you." 

"It  is  no  petty  difference,"  said  I,  rising,  "  nor  am  I  permit- 
ted to  mention  the  cause.  Meanwhile,  may  God  bless  you, 
dearest  Lady  Roseville,  and  preser\'e  that  kind  and  generous 
heart  from  worse  pangs  than  those  of  disappointed  ambition,  or 
betrayed  trust." 

Lady  Roseville  looked  down — her  bosom  heaved  violently  ; 
she  felt  the  meaning  of  my  words.  I  left  her,  and  returned 
home. 


CHAPTER  LXXn. 

Good  Mr.  Knave  give  me  my  due, 

I  like  a  tart  as  well  as  you  ; 

But  I  would  starve  on  good  roast  beef, 

Ere  I  would  look  so  like  a  thief. —  The  Queen  of  Hearts. 

-Nunc  vino  pcllite  curas  : 


Cras  ingens  iterabimus  a;quor. — HoR. 

The  next  morning  I  received  a  note  from  Guloseton,  asking 
me  to  dine  with  him  at  eight,  to  meet  his  chevreiiil.  I  sent  back 
an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  and  then  give  myself  wholly  up  to 
considering  what  was  the  best  line  of. conduct  to  pursue  with 
regard  to  Lord  Dawton.  "  It  would  be  pleasant  enough,"  said 
Anger,  "  to  go  to  him,  to  ask  him  boldly  for  the  borough  so 
often  pledged  to  you,  and,  in  case  of  his  refusal,  to  confront,  to 
taunt,  and  to  break  with  him."  '"True,"  replied  that  more 
homely  and  less  stage-effect  arguer,  which  we  term  Knowledge 
of  the  World  ;  "  but  this  would  be  neither  useful  nor  dignified 
— common  sense  never  quarrels  with  any  one.  Call  upon  Lord 
Dawton,  if  you  will — ask  him  for  his  promise  with  your  second 
best  smile, and  receive  his  excuses  with  your  very  best.  Then 
do  as  you  please — break  with  him  or  not — you  can  do  either 
with  grace  and  quiet  ;  never  make  a  scene  about  anything — • 
reproach  and  anger  always  ^/c;  make  a  scene."      "Very  true," 


298  PELITAM;  OR, 

said  I,  in  answer  to  the  latter  suggestion — and  having  made  up 
my  mind,  I  repaired  a  quarter  before  three  to  Lord  Dawton's 
house. 

"  Ah,  Pelham,"  said  the  httle  minister,  "  delighted  to  see  you 
look  so  much  the  better  from  the  country  air;  you  will  stay  in 
town  now,  I  hope,  till  the  end  of  the  season  ? " 

"  Certain!}',  Lord  Dawton,  or,  at  all  events,  till  the  prorogation 
of  Parliament ;  how,  indeed,  could  I  do  otherwise,  with  your 
lordship's  kind  promise  before  my  eyes  ?  Mr. ,  the  mem- 
ber for  your  borough  of ,  has,  I  believe,  accepted  the  Chil- 

tern  Hundreds?  I  feel  truly  obliged  to  you  for  so  promptly 
fulfilling  your  promise  to  me." 

"  Hem  !  my  dear  Pelham,  hem  !  "  murmured  Lord  Dawton. 
I  bent  forward  as  if  in  the  attitude  of  listening  respect,  but 
really  the  more  clearly  to  perceive,  and  closely  to  enjoy,  his  con- 
fusion. He  looked  up  and  caught  my  eye,  and  not  being  too 
much  gratified  with  its  involuntary  expression,  he  grew  more 
embarrassed  ;  at  last  he  summoned  courage. 

"  Why,  my  dear  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  did,  it  is  true,  promise  you 
that  borough  ;  but  individual  friendship  must  frequently  be  sacri- 
ficed to  the  public  good.     All  our  party  insisted  upon  returning 

Mr.  V in  place  of  the  late  member  :  what  could  I  do .''     I 

mentioned  your  claims  ;  they  all,  to  a  man,  enlarged  upon  your 
rival's  :  to  be  sure  he  is  an  older  person,  and  his  family  is  very 
powerful  in  the  Lower  House  :  in  short,  you  perceive,  my  dear 
Pelham — that  is  you  are  aware — you  can  feel  for  the  delicacy  of 
my  situation — one  could  not  appear  too  eager  for  one's  own 
friends  at  first,  and  I  \\2iS  forced  to  concede." 

Lord  Dawton  was  now  fairly  delivered  of  his  speech  ;  it  was 
therefore,  only  left  me  to  congratulate  him  on  his  offspring. 

"  My  dear  lord,"  I  began,  "you  could  not  have  pleased  me 

better:  Mr.  V is  a  most  estimable  man,  and  I  would  not, 

for  the  world,  have  had  you  suspected  of  placing  such  a  trifle 
as  your  own  honor — that  is  to  say — your  promise  to  me,  before 
the  commands — that  is  to  say,  the  interests — of  your  party  ;  but 

no  more  of  this  now.     Was  your  lordship  at  the  Duke  of 's 

last  night  ?  " 

Dawton  seized  joyfully  the  opportunity  of  changing  the  con- 
versation, and  we  talked  and  laughed  on  indifferent  matters  till 
I  thought  it  time  to  withdraw  ;  this  I  did  with  the  most  cordial 
appearance  of  regard  and  esteem  ;  nor  was  it  till  I  had  fairly 
set  my  foot  out  of  his  door,  that  I  suffered  myself  to  indulge 
the  "  black  bile  "  at  my  breast.  I  turned  towards  the  Green 
Park,  and  was  walking  slowly  along  the  principal  mall  with  my 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  299 

hand  behind  me,  and  my  eyes  on  the  ground,  when  I  heard  my 
own  name  uttered.  On  looking  back,  I  perceived  Lord  Vincent 
on  horseback  ;  he  stopped  and  conversed  with  me.  In  the  humor 
I  was  in  with  Lord  Dawton,  I  received  him  with  greater  warmth 
than  I  had  done  of  late ;  and  he  also,  being  in  a  social  mood, 
seemed  so  well  satisfied  with  our  rencontre,  and  my  behavior, 
that  he  dismounted  to  walk  with  me. 

"  This  park  is  a  very  different  scene  now,"  said  Vincent, 
*'  from  what  it  was  in  the  times  of  '  The  Merry  Monarch  ; '  yet 
it  is  still  a  spot  much  more  to  my  taste  than  its  more  gaudy  and 
less  classical  brother  of  Hyde,  There  is  something  pleasingly 
melancholy,  in  walking  over  places  hunted  by  history ;  for  all  of 
us  live  more  in  the  past  than  the  present." 

"  And  how  exactly  alike  in  all  ages,"  said  I,  "  men  hav^e  been  ! 
On  the  very  spot  we  are  on  now,  how  many  have  been  actuated 
by  the  same  feelings  that  now  actuate  us — how  many  have  made 
perhaps  exactly  the  same  remark  just  made  by  you  !  It  is  this 
universal  identity,  which  forms  our  most  powerful  link  with  those 
that  have  been — there  is  a  satisfaction  in  seeing  how  closely  we 
resemble  the  Agamemnons  of  gone  times,  and  we  take  care  to 
lose  none  of  it,  by  thinking  how  closely  we  also  resemble  the 
Thersiteses." 

"True,"  replied  Vincent:  "if  wise  and  great  men  did  but 
know  how  little  difference  there  is  between  them  and  the  foolish 
or  the  mean,  they  would  not  take  such  pains  to  be  wise  and 
great ;  to  use  the  Chinese  proverb,  '  they  sacrifice  a  picture,  to 
get  possession  of  its  ashes.'  It  is  almost  a  pity  that  the  desire 
to  advance  should  be  so  necessary  to  our  being  ;  ambition  is 
often  a  fine,  but  never  a  felicitous  feeling.  Cyprian,  in  a  beauti- 
ful passage  on  envy,  calls  it  '  the  moth  of  the  soul  : '  but  per- 
haps, even  that  passion  is  less  gnawing,  less  a  '  tabes  pectoris,' 
than  ambition.  You  are  surprised  at  my  heat — the  fact  is,  I 
am  enraged  at  thinking  how  mucli  we  forfeit,  when  we  look  /// 
only,  and  trample  unconsciously,  in  the  blindness  of  our  aspira- 
tion, on  the  affections  which  strew  our  path.  Now,  you  and  I 
have  been  utterly  estranged  from  each  other  of  late.  Why  ? — 
for  any  dispute — any  disagreement  in  private — any  discovery  of 
meanness — treachery,  unworthiness  in  the  other?  No!  merely 
because  I  dine  with  Lord  Lincoln,  and  you  with  Lord  Dawton 
Tflilii  tout.  Well  say  the  Jesuits,  that  they  who  live  for  the  pub- 
lic must  renounce  all  private  ties  ;  the  very  day  we  become 
citizens,  we  are  to  cease  to  be  men.  Our  privacy  is  like  Leo 
Dcciiuiis ;  directly  it  dies,  all  peace,  comfort,  joy,  and  sociahty 


300  PEL  HAM;  OR 

are  to  die  with  it :  and  an  iron  age,  '  barbara  vis  etdira  jnalorum 
omnium  incomfnoda  '  to  succeed." 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  we  struck  into  different  paths,"  said  I :  "  no 
pleasure  would  have  been  to  me  greater  than  making  our  polit- 
ical  interests  the  same  ;  but — " 

"  Perhaps  there  is  no  but,"  interrupted  Vincent ;  "  perhaps, 
like  the  two  knights  in  the  hackneyed  story,  we  are  only  giving 
diflFerent  names  to  the  same  shield,  because  we  view  it  on  dif- 
ferent sides  ;  let  us  also  imitate  them  in  their  reconciliation,  as 
well  as  their  quarrel,  and  since  we  have  already  run  our  lances 
against  each  other,  be  convinced  of  our  error,  and  make  up  our 
difference." 

I  was  silent ;  indeed,  I  did  not  like  to  trust  myself  to  speak. 
Vincent  continued  : — 

"  I  know,"  said  he,   "  and  it  is  in  vain  for  you  to  conceal  it, 

that  you  have  been  ill-used  by  Dawton.     Mr.  V is  my  first- 

Cousin  ;  he  came  to  me  the  day  after  the  borough  was  given  ta 
him,  and  told  me  all  that  Clandonald  and  Dawton  had  said  to 
him  at  the  time.  Believe  me,  they  did  not  spzre  you ; — the 
former  you  have  grievously  offended  ;  you  know  that  he  has 
quarrelled  irremediably  with  his  son  Dartmore,  and  he  insists 
that  you  are  the  friend  and  abettor  of  that  ingenuous  youth,  in 
all  his  debaucheries  and  extravagance — iu  i//um  corrumpi  si?iis. 
I  tell  you  this  without  hesitation,  for  I  know  that  you  are  less 
vain  than  ambitious,  and  I  do  not  care  about  hurting  you  in  the 
one  point,  if  I  advance  you  in  the  other.  As  for  me,  I  own  to 
you  candidly  and  frankly,  that  there  are  no  pains  I  would  spare 
to  secure  you  to  our  party.  Join  us,  and  you  shall,  as  I  have 
often  said,  be  on  the  parliamentary  benches  of  our  corps,  with- 
out a  moment  of  unnecessary  delay.  More  I  cannot  promise  you, 
because  I  cannot  promise  more  to  myself;  but  from  that  instant 
your  fortune,  if  I  augur  aught  aright  from  your  ability,  will  be 
in  your  hands.  You  shake  your  head — surely  you  must  see 
that  our  differences  are  not  vehement — it  is  a  difference  not  of 
measures,  but  men.  There  is  but  a  verbal  disagreement 
between  us  ;  and  we  must  own  the  wisdom  of  the  sentence 
recorded  in  Aulus  Gellius,  that  '  he  is  but  a  madman,  who  splits 
the  weight  of  things  upon  the  hair-breadths  of  words.'  You 
laugh  at  the  quaintness  of  the  quotation  ;  quaint  proverbs  are 
of  the  truest." 

If  my  reader  should  think  lightly  of  me,  when  I  own  that  i 
felt  wavering  and  irresolute  at  the  end  of  this  speech,  let  him 
for  a  moment  place  himself  in  my  situation — let  him  feel  indig 
nant  at  the  treachery,  the  injustice,  the  ingratitude  of  one  man; 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  301 

and,  at  the  very  height  of  his  resentment,  let  him  be  soothed, 
flaitered,  courted,  by  the  offered  friendship  and  favor  of  another. 
Let  him  personally  despise  the  former,  and  esteem  the  latter  ; 
and  let  him  above  all  be  co7tvinced,  as  well  as  persuaded,  of  the 
truth  of  Vincent's  hint,  viz.,  that  no  sacrifice  of  principle,  nor 
of  measures,  was  required — nothing  but  an  alliance  against  men, 
not  measures.  And  who  were  those  men  ?  bound  to  me  by 
a  single  tie — meriting  from  my  gratitude  a  single  considera- 
tion .''  No  !  the  men,  above  all  others,  who  had  offered  me  the 
greatest  affront,  and  deser\^ed  from  me  the  smallest  esteem. 

But,  however  human  feelings  might  induce  me  to  waver,  I 
felt  that  it  was  not  by  them  only  I  was  to  decide.  I  am  not  a 
man  whose  vices  or  virtues  are  regulated  by  the  impulse  and 
passion  of  the  moment :  if  I  am  quick  to  act,  I  am  habitually 
slow  to  deliberate.  I  turned  to  Vincent,  and  pressed  his  hand  : 
"  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  answer  you  now,"  said  I  :  "  give 
me  till  to-morrow ;  I  shall  then  have  both  considered  and 
determined." 

I  did  not  wait  for  his  reply.  I  sprang  from  him,  turned  down 
the  passage  which  leads  to  Pall  Mall,  and  hastened  home 
once  more  to  commune  with  my  own  heart,  and — not  to  be 
still. 

In  these  confessions  I  have  made  no  scruple  of  owning  my 
errors  and  my  foibles  ;  all  that  could  occasion  mirth  or  benefit 
to  the  reader  were  his  own.  I  have  kept  a  veil  over  the  darker 
and  stormier  emotions  of  my  soul ;  all  that  could  neither  amuse 
nor  instruct  him  are  mine  ! 

Hours  passed  on — it  became  time  to  dress — I  rang  for  Bedos 
— dressed  as  usual — great  emotions  interfere  little  with  the 
mechanical  operations  of  life — and  drove  to  Guloseton's. 

He  was  unusually  entertaining  ;  the  dinner  too  was  unusually, 
good  ;  but  thinking  that  I  was  sufficiently  intimate   with  my 
host  not  to  belie  my  feelings,  I  remained  distrait,  absent,  and 
dull. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  friend  ?  "  said  the  good- 
natured  epicure  ;  "  you  have  neither  applauded  my  jokes,  nor 
lasted  my  fj77///cy/t'^;  and  your  behavior  has  trifled  alike  with 
my  chevreiiil  and  my  feelings  ? " — l^ie  proverb  is  right,  in  say- 
ing grief  is  communicative."  I  confess  that  I  was  eager  to 
unbosom  myself  to  one  upon  whose  confidence  I  could  depend. 
Guloseton  heard  me  with  great  attention  and  interest — "  Little," 
said  he,  kindly,  "  little  as  I  care  for  these  matters  myself,  I  can 
feel  for  those  who  do  ;  I  wish  I  could  serve  you  better  than  by 
advice.     However,  you  cannot,   I   imagine,  hesitate  to   accept 


302  PELHAM;  GR, 

Vincent's  offer.  What  matters  it  whether  you  sit  on  one  bench 
or  on  another,  so  that  you  do  not  sit  in  a  thorough  draught — or 
dine  at  Lord  Lincohi's,  or  Lord  Dawton's,  so  long  as  the  cooks 
are  equally  good  ?  As  for  Dawton,  I  always  thought  him  a 
shuffling,  mean  fellow,  who  buys  his  wines  at  the  second  price, 
and  sells  his  offices  at  the  first.  Come,  my  dear  fellow,  let  us 
drink  to  his  confusion." 

So  saying,  Guloseton  filled  my  glass  to  the  brim.  He  had 
sympathized  with  me — I  thought  it,  therefore,  my  duty  to  sym- 
pathize with  him  ;  nor  did  we  part  till  the  eyes  of  the  bon  vivant 
saw  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  than  are  dreamt  of  in 
the  philosophy  of  the  sober. 


CHAPTER   LXXHL 

Si  ad  honestatem  nati  sumus,  ea  aut  sola  expetenda  est,  aut  certe 

omni  ponderc  gravior  est  habenda  quam  reliqua  omnia. 

TULLY. 
Cos.     Brutus,  I  do  observe  ycru  now  of  late  : 
I  have  not  from  your  eyes  that  gentleness 
And  show  of  love  as  I  was  wont  to  hzve.— Julius  Casar. 

I  ROSE  at  my  usual  early  hour  ;  sleep  had  tended  to  calm, 
and,  I  hope,  also,  to  better,  my  feelings.  I  had  now  leisure  to 
reflect,  that  I  had  not  embraced  my  party  from  any  private  or 
interested  motive ;  it  was  not,  therefore,  from  a  private  or  inter- 
ested motive  that  I  was  justified  in  deserting  it.  Our  passions 
are  terrible  sophists  !  When  Vincent  had  told  me,  the  day  be- 
fore, that  it  was  from  men,  not  measures,  that  I  was  to  change, 
•  and  that  such  a  change  could  scarcely  deserve  the  name,  my 
heart  adopted  the  assertion,  and  fancied  it  into  truth. 

I  now  began  to  perceive  the  delusion  ;  were  government  as 
mechanically  perfect  as  it  has  never  yet  been  (but  as  I  trust  it 
may  yet  be),  it  would  signify  little  who  were  the  mere  machines 
that  regulated  its  springs  :  but  in  a  constitution  like  ours,  the 
chief  character  of  which — pardon  me,  ye  De  Lolmeites — is  its 
uncertainty ;  where  men  invariably  make  the  measures  square  to 
the  dimensions  of  their  own  talent  or  desire  ;  and  where,  revers- 
ing the  maxim  of  the  tailor,  the  measures  so  rarely  make  the 
men  ;  it  required  no  penetration  to  see  how  dangerous  it  was  to 
entrust  to  the  aristocratic  prejudice  of  Lincoln,  or  the  vehe- 
ment imbecility  of  Lesborough,  the  execution  of  the  very  same 
measures  which  might  safely  be  committed  to  the  plain  sense  of 


ADV£:NTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  303 

Dawton,  and,  above  all,  to  the  great  and  various  talents  of  his 
coadjutors.  But  what  made  the  vital  difference  between  the 
two  parties  was  less  in  the  leaders  than  the  body.  In  the  Daw- 
ton  faction,  the  best,  the  purest,  the  wisest  of  the  day  were  en- 
rolled ;  they  took  upon  themselves  the  origin  of  all  the  active 
measures,  and  Lord  Dawton  was  the  mere  channel  through 
which  those  measures  flowed  ;  the  plain,  the  unpretending,  and 
somewhat  feeble  character  of  Lord  Dawton's  mind,  readily  con- 
ceded to  the  abler  components  of  his  party  the  authority  it  was 
so  desirable  that  they  should  exert.  In  Vincent's  party,  with 
the  exception  of  himself,  there  was  scarcely  an  individual  with 
the  honesty  requisite  for  loving  the  projects  they  affected  to  pro- 
pose, or  the  talents  that  were  necessar}-  for  carrying  them  into 
effect,  even  were  their  wishes  sincere  ;  nor  was  either  the  haughty 
Lincoln,  or  his  noisy  and  overbearing  companion,  Lesborough, 
at  all  of  a  temper,  to  suffer  that  quiet,  yet  powerful  interference 
of  others,  to  which  Dawton  unhesitatingly  submitted. 

I  was  the  more  resolved  to  do  all  possible  justice  to  Dawton's 
party,  from  the  inclination  I  naturally  had  to  lean  towards  the 
other  ;  and  in  all  matters,  where  private  pique  or  self-interest 
can  possibly  penetrate,  it  has  ever  been  the  object  of  my  ma- 
turer  consideration  to  direct  my  particular  attention  to  that  side 
of  the  question  which  such  undue  partisans  are  the  least  likely 
to  espouse.  While  I  was  gradually,  but  clearly,  feeling  my  way 
to  a  decision,  I  received  the  following  note  from  Guloseton  : — 

"  I  said  nothing  to  you  last  night  of  what  is  now  to  be  th?j 
subject  of  my  letter,  lest  you  should  suppose  it  arose  rather 
from  the  heat  of  an  extempore  conviviality,  than  its  real  source 
viz.,  a  sincere  esteem  for  your  mind,  a  sincere  affection  for  youi 
heart,  and  a  sincere  sympathy  in  your  resentment  and  your  in- 
terest. 

"  They  tell  me  that  Lord  Dawton's  triumph  or  discomfiture 

rests  entirely  upon  the  success  of  the  motion  upon , 

brought  before  the  House  of  Commons,  on  the .     I 

care,  you  know,  very  little,  for  my  own  part,  which  way  this 
question  is  decided ;  do  not  think,  therefore,  that  I  make  any 
sacrifice  when  I  request  you  to  suffer  me  to  follow  your  advice 
in  the  disposal  of  my  four  votes.  1  imagine,  of  course,  that  you 
wish  them  to  adopt  the  contrary  side  to  Lord  Dawton  ;  and 
upon  receiving  a  line  from  you  to  that  effect,  they  shall  be  em- 
powered to  do  so. 

"Pray,  oblige  me  also  by  taking  the  merit  of  this  measure 
upon  yourself,  and  saying  (wherever  it  may  be  useful  to  you,) 


304  PELHAM ;  OR, 

how  entirely  both  the  voters  and  their  influence  are  at  your  dis- 
posal. I  trust  we  shall  yet  play  the  Bel  to  this  Dragon,  and 
fell  him  from  his  high  places. 

"  Pity  me,  my  dear  friend  ;  I  dine  out  to-day,  and  feel  already, 
by  an  intuitive  shudder,  that  the  soup  will  be  cold  and  the 
sherry  hot.     Adieu. 

"  Ever  yours. 

"  GULOSETON." 

Now,  then,  my  triumph,  my  vanity,  and  my  revenge  might  be 
fully  gratified.  I  had  before  me  a  golden  opportunity  of  dis- 
playing my  own  power,  and  of  humbling  that  of  the  minister. 
My  heart  swelled  high  at  the  thought.  Let  it  be  forgiven  me, 
if,  for  a  single  moment,  my  previous  calculations  and  morality 
vanished  from  my  mind,  and  I  saw  only  the  offer  of  Vincent, 
and  the  generosity  of  Guloseton.  But  I  checked  the  risings  of 
my  heart,  and  compelled  my  proud  spirit  to  obedience. 

I  placed  Guloseton's  letter  before  me,  and,  as  I  read  it  once 
more  in  order  to  reply  to  it,  the  disinterested  kindness  and  del- 
icacy of  one,  whom  I  had  long,  in  the  injustice  of  my  thoughts, 
censured  as  selfish,  came  over  me  so  forcibly,  and  contrasted 
so  deeply  with  the  hollowness  of  friends  more  sounding,  alike 
in  their  profession  and  their  creeds,  that  the  tears  rushed  to  my 
eyes. 

A  thousand  misfortunes  are  less  affecting  than  a  single  kind- 
ness. 

I  wrote,  in  answer,  a  warm  and  earnest  letter  of  thanks  for  an 
offer,  the  kindness  of  which  penetrated  me  to  the  soul.  I  de- 
tailed at  some  length  the  reasons  which  induced  me  to  the  de- 
cision I  had  taken  ;  I  sketched  also  the  nature  of  the  very  im- 
portant motion  about  to  be  brought  before  the  House,  and  de- 
duced from  that  sketch  the  impossibility  of  conscientiously  op- 
posing Lord  Dawton's  party  in  the  debate.  I  concluded  with 
repeating  the  expressions  my  gratitude  suggested  ;  and,  after  de- 
clining all  interference  with  Lord  Guloseton's  votes,  ventured  to 
add,  that  had  I  interfered,  it  would  have  been  in  support  of 
Dawton  ;  not  as  a  man,  but  a  minister — not  as  an  individual 
friend,  but  a  public  servant. 

I  had  just  despatched  this  letter  when  Vincent  entered ;  I 
acquainted  him,  though  in  the  most  respectful  and  friendly  terms, 
with  my  determination.  He  seemed  greatly  disappointed,  and 
endeavored  to  shake  my  resolution  ;  finding  this  was  in  vain,  he 
appeared  at  last  satisfied,  and  even  affected  with  my  reasons. 
When  we  parted,  it  was  with  a  promise,  confirmed  by  both,  that 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLE MAiV.  305 

no  public  variance  should  ever  again  alter  our  private  opinion 
of  each  other. 

When  I  was  once  more  alone,  and  saw  myself  brought  back 
to  the  very  foot  of  the  ladder  I  had  so  far  and  so  fortunately 
climbed;  when  I  saw  that,  rejecting  all  the  overtures  of  my 
friends,  I  was  left  utterly  solitary'  and  unaided  among  my  foes — 
when  I  looked  beyond,  and  saw  no  faint  loop-hole  of  hope,  no 
single  stepping-stone  on  which  to  recommence  my  broken  but  un- 
wearied career — perhaps  one  pang  of  regret  and  repentance  at 
my  determination  came  across  me  :  but  there  is  something  marvel- 
lously restorative  in  a  good  conscience,  and  one  soon  learns  to 
look  with  hope  to  the  future,  when  one  can  feel  justified  in  turn^ 
ing  with  pride  to  the  past. 

My  horse  came  to  the  door  at  my  usual  hour  for  riding :  with 
what  gladness  I  sprang  upon  his  back,  felt  the  free  wind  fresh- 
ening over  my  fevered  cheek,  and  turned  my  rein  towards  the 
green  lanes  that  border  the  great  city  on  its  western  side.  I 
know  few  counsellors  more  exhilarating  than  a  spirited  horse.  I 
do  not  wonder  that  the  Roman  emperor  made  a  consul  of  his 
steed.  On  horseback  I  always  best  feel  my  powers,  and  survey 
my  resources  :  on  horseback  I  always  originate  my  subtlest 
schemes,  and  plan  their  ablest  execution.  Give  me  but  a  light 
rein,  and  a  free  bound,  and  I  am  Cicero — Cato — Ccesar  ;  dis- 
mount me,  and  I  become  a  mere  clod  of  the  earth  which  you  con- 
demn me  to  touch :  fire,  energy,  ethereality^  have  departed ;  I 
am  the  soil  without  the  sun — the  cask  without  the  wine — the 
garments  without  the  man. 

I  returned  homeward  with  increased  spirits  and  collected 
thoughts  :  I  urged  my  mind  from  my  own  situation,  and  suf- 
fered it  to  rest  upon  what  Lady  Roseville  had  told  me  of  Regi- 
nald Glanville's  interference  in  my  behalf.  That  extraordinary 
man  still  continued  powerfully  to  excite  my  interest ;  nor  could 
I  dwell,  without  some  yearning  of  the  kindlier  affections,  upon 
his  unsolicited,  and,  but  for  Lady  Roseville's  communication, 
unknown  exertions  in  my  cause.  Although  the  officers  of  jus- 
tice were  still  actively  employed  in  the  pursuit  of  Tyrrell's  mur- 
derer, and  although  the  newspapers  were  still  full  of  speculations 
on  their  indifferent  success,  public  curiosity  had  begun  to  flag 
upon  the  inquiry.  I  had,  once  or  twice,  been  in  Glanville's  com- 
pany when  the  murder  was  brought  upon  the  tapis,  and  narrowly 
examined  his  behavior  upon  a  subject  which  touched  him  so 
fearfully.  I  could  not,  however,  note  any  extraordinary  confu- 
sion or  change  in  his  countenance  ;  perhaps  the  pale  cheek  grew 
somewhat  pal^r,  the  dreaming  eye  more  abstracted,  and  the  ab 
20 


3o6  PELHAM ;  OR, 

sent  spirit  more  wandering  than  before  ;  but  many  other  causes 
than  guilt  could  account  for  signs  so  doubtful  and  minute. 

"  You  shall  soon  know  all,"  the  last  words  which  he  had  ad- 
dressed to  me,  yet  rang  in  my  ears  ;  and  most  intensely  did  I 
anticipate  the  fulfilment  of  this  promise.  My  hopes  too — those 
flatterers,  so  often  the  pleasing  antithesis  of  reason — whispered 
that  this  was  not  the  pledge  of  a  guilty,  man  ;  and  yet  he  had 
said  to  Lady  Roseville,  that  he  did  not  wonder  at  my  estrange- 
ment from  him  :  such  words  seemed  to  require  a  less  favorable 
construction  than  those  he  had  addressed  to  me  ;  and,  in  making 
this  mental  remark,  another,  of  no  flattering  nature  to  Glanville's 
disinterestedness,  suggested  itself  ;  might  not  his  interference  for 
me  with  Lord  Dawton,  arise  rather  from  policy  than  friendship  ? 
— might  it  not  occur  to  him,  if,  as  I  surmised,  he  was  acquainted 
with  my  suspicions,  and  acknowledged  their  dreadful  justice, 
that  it  would  be  advisable  to  propitiate  my  silence  }  Such  were 
among  the  thousand  thoughts  which  flashed  across  me,  and  left 
my  speculations  in  debate  and  doubt. 

Nor  did  my  reflections  pass  unnoticed  the  nature  of  Lady 
Roseville's  affection  for  Glanville.  From  the  seeming  coldness 
and  austerity  of  Sir  Reginald's  temperament,  it  was  likely  that 
this  was  innocent,  at  least  in  act ;  and  there  was  also  something 
guileless  in  the  manner  in  which  she  appeared  rather  to  exult  in, 
than  to  conceal,  her  attachment.  True  that  she  was  bound  by 
no  ties  ;  she  had  neither  husband  nor  children,  for  whose  sake 
love  became  a  crime  :  free  and  unfettered,  if  she  gave  her  heart 
to  Glanville,  it  was  also  allowable  to  render  the  gift  lawful  and 
perpetual  by  the  blessing  of  the  church. 

Alas  !  how  little  can  woman,  shut  up  in  her  narrow  and  limited 
circle  of  duties,  know  of  the  wandering  life  and  various  actions 
of  her  lover  !  Little,  indeed,  could  Lady  Roseville,  when,  in 
the  heat  of  enthusiasm,  she  spoke  of  the  lofty  and  generous 
character  of  Glanville,  dream  of  the  foul  and  dastardly  crime  of 
which  he  was  more  than  suspected  ;  nor,  while  it  was,  perhaps, 
her  fondest  wish  to  allay  herself  to  his  destiny,  could  her  wildest 
fancies  anticipate  the  felon's  fate,  which,  if  death  came  not  in  a 
hastier  and  kinder  shape,  must  sooner  or  later  await  him. 

Of  Thornton  I  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  aught  since  my 
departure  from  Lord  Chester's  ;  that  reprieve  was,  however, 
shortly  to  expire,  I  had  scarcely  got  into  Oxford-street,  in  my 
way  homeward,  when  I  perceived  him  crossing  the  street  with 
another  man.  I  turned  round  to  scrutinize  the  features  of  his 
companion,  and,  in  spite  of  a  great  change  of  dress,  a  huge  pair 
of  false  whiskers,  and  an  artificial  appearance  of  increased  age, 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAJV.  307 

mv  habit  of  observing  countenances  enabled  me  to  recognize, 
on  the  instant,  my  intellectual  and  virtuous  friend,  Mr.  Job  Jon- 
son.  They  disappeared  in  a  shop,  nor  did  I  think  it  woith 
while  to  further  observe  them,  though  I  still  bore  a  reminiscitory 
spite  against  Mr.  Job  Jonson,  which  I  was  fully  resolved  to 
wreak  at  the  first  favorable  opportunity. 

I  passed  by  Lady  Roseville's  door.  Though  the  hour  was 
late,  and  I  had,  therefore,  but  a  slight  chance  of  finding  her  at 
home,  3'et  I  thought  the  chance  worth  the  trouble  of  inquiry. 
To  my  agreeable  surprise,  I  was  admitted  ;  no  one  was  in  the 
drawing-room.  The  servant  said.  Lady  Roseville  was  at  that 
moment  engaged,  but  would  very  shortly  see  me,  and  begged  I 
would  wait. 

Agitated  as  I  was  by  various  reflections.  I  walked  (in  the 
restlessness  of  my  mood)  to  and  fro  the  spacious  rooms  which 
formed  Lady  Roseville's  apartments  of  reception.  At  the  far 
end  was  a  small  boudoir,  where  none  but  the  goddess's  favored 
few  were  admitted.  As  I  approached  towards  it,  I  heard  voices, 
and  the  next  moment  recognized  the  deep  tones  of  Glanville. 
I  turned  hastily  away,  lest  I  should  overhear  the  discourse  ;  but 
I  had  scarcely  got  three  steps,  when  the  convulsed  sound  of  a. 
woman's  sob  came  upon  my  ear.  Shortly  afterwards,  steps  de- 
scended the  stairs,  and  the  street-door  opened. 

The  minutes  rolled  on,  and  I  became  impatient.    The  servant 
re-entered — Lady  Roseville  was  so  suddenly  and  seriously  in- 
disposed, that  she  was  unable  to  see  me.      I  left  the  house,  and 
full  of  bewildered  conjectures,  returned  to  my  apartments. 

The  next  day  was  one  of  the  most  important  in  my  life.  1 
was  standing  wistfully  by  my  fire-place,  listening  with  the  most 
mournful  attention  to  a  broken-winded  hurdy-gurdy,  stationed 
opposite  to  my  window,  when  Bedos  announced  Sir  Reginald 
Glanville.  It  so  happened,  that  I  had  that  morning  taken  the 
miniature  I  had  found  in  the  fatal  field,  from  the  secret  place  in 
which  I  usually  kept  it,  in  order  closely  to  examine  it,  lest  any 
proof  of  its  ownership,  more  convincing  than  the  initials  and 
Thornton's  interpretation,  might  be  discovered  by  a  minuter 
investigation. 

The  picture  was  lying  on  the  table  when  Glanville  en- 
tered :  my  first  impulse  was  to  seize  and  secrete  it ;  my  second 
to  suffer  it  to  remain,  and  to  watch  the  effect  the  sight  of  it 
might  produce.  In  following  the  latter,  I  thought  it,  however, 
as  well  to  choose  my  own  time  for  discovering  the  miniature  ; 
and,  as  I  moved  to  the  table,  I  threw  my  handkerchief  carelessly 
over  it.     Glanville  came  up  to  me  at  once,  and  his  countenance, 


308  PELHAM;  OR, 

usually  close  and  reserved  in  its  expression,  assumed  a  franker 
and  bolder  aspect. 

"  You  have  lately  changed  towards  me,"  he  said — "  mindful 
of  our  former  friendship,  I  have  come  to  demand  the  reason," 

"  Can  Sir  Reginald  Glanville's  memory,"  answered  I,  "supply 
him  with  no  probable  cause  ?  " 

"  It  can,"  replied  Glanville,  "  but  I  would  not  trust  only  to 
that.  Sit  down,  Pelham,  and  listen  to  me.  I  can  read  your 
thoughts,  and  I  might  affect  to  despise  their  import — perhaps 
two  years  since  I  should — at  present  I  can  pity  and  excuse 
them.  I  have  come  to  you  now,  in  the  love  and  confidence  of 
our  early  days,  to  claim  as  then  your  good  opinion  and  esteem. 
If  you  require  any  explanation  at  my  hands,  it  shall  be  given. 
My  days  are  approaching  their  end.  I  have  made  up  my  ac- 
counts with  others — I  would  do  so  with  you.  I  confess  that  I 
would  fain  leave  behind  me  in  your  breast,  the  same  affection- 
ate remembrance  I  might  heretofore  have  claimed,  and  which, 
whatever  be  your  suspicions,  I  have  done  nothing  to  forfeit.  I 
have,  moreover,  a  dearer  interest  than  my  own  to  consult  in 
this  wish — you  color,  Pelham — you  know  to  whom  I  allude  ;  for 
my  sister's  sake,  if  not  for  my  own,  \o\\  will  hear  me." 

Glanville  paused  for  a  moment.  I  raised  the  handkerchief 
from  the  miniature — I  pushed  the  latter  towards  him — "  Do  you 
remember  this  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  low  tone. 

With  a  wild  cry,  which  thrilled  through  my  heart,  Glanville 
sprang  forward  and  seized  it.  He  gazed  eagerly  and  intensely 
upon  it,  and  his  cheek  flushed — his  eyes  sparkled — his  breast 
heaved.  The  next  moment  he  fell  back  in  his  chair,  in  one  of 
the  half  swoons,  to  which,  upon  a  sudden  and  violent  emotion, 
the  debilitating  effects  of  his  disease  subjected  him. 

Before  I  could  come  to  his  assistance,  he  had  recovered.  He 
looked  wildly  and  fiercely  upon  me.  "  Speak,"  he  cried,  "  speak 
— where  got  you  this — where  ? — answer,  for  mercy's  sake  !  " 

"Recollect  yourself,"  said  I  sternly.  "I  found  that  token  of 
your  presence  upon  the  spot  where  Tyrrell  was  murdered." 

"  True,  true,"  said  Glanville,  slowly,  and  in  an  absent  and  ab- 
stracted tone.  He  ceased  abruptly,  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands ;  from  this  attitude  he  started  with  some  sudden  impulse. 

"  And  tell  me,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  inward,  exulting  tone,  "  was 
it — was  it  red  with  the  blood  of  the  murdered  man  ? " 

"  Wretch  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  do  you  glory  in  your  guilt .-'  " 

"  Hold !  "  said  Glanville,  rising,  with  an  altered  and  haughty 
air ;  "  it  is  not  to  your  accusations  that  I  am  now  to  listen  :  if 
you  are  yet  desirous  of  weighing  their  justice  before  you  decide 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  309 

up'M  them,  3'^ou  will  have  the  opportunity ;  I  shall  be  at  home  at 
ten  this  night;  come  to  me,  ^wd  you  shall  knoza  all.  At  present, 
the  sight  of  this  picture  has  unnerved  me.     Shall  I  see  you  ?  " 

I  made  no  other  rejoinder  than  the  brief  expression  of  my 
assent,  and  Glanville  instantly  left  the  room. 

During  the  whole  of  that  day,  my  mind  was  wrought  up  into 
a  state  of  feverish  and  preternatural  excitement.  I  could  not 
remain  on  the  same  spot  for  an  instant ;  my  pulse  beat  with  the 
irregularity  of  delirium.  For  the  last  hour  I  placed  ray  watch 
before  me,  and  kept  my  eyes  constantly  fixed  upon  it.  It  was 
not  only  Glanville's  confession  that  I  was  to  hear ;  my  own  fate, 
my  future  connection  with  Ellen,  rested  upon  the  story  of  that 
night.  For  myself,  when  I  called  to  mind  Glanville's  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  picture,  and  his  slow  and  involuntary  remem- 
brance of  the  spot  where  it  was  found,  I  scarcely  allowed  my 
*:emper,  sanguine  as  it  was,  to  hope. 

Some  minutes  before  the  hour  of  ten,  I  repaired  to  Glanville's 
house.     He  was  alone — the  picture  was  before  him. 

I  drew  my  chair  towards  him  in  silence,  and  accidentally 
lifting  up  my  eyes,  encountered  the  opposite  mirror.  I  started 
at  my  own  face  ;  the  intensity  and  fearfulness  of  my  interest 
had  rendered  it  even  more  hueless  than  that  of  my  companion. 

There  was  a  pause  for  some  moments,  at  the  end  of  which 
Glanville  thus  began. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

I  do  but  hide 
Under  these  words,  like  embers,  every  spark 
Of  that  which  has  consumed  me.     Quici:  and  dark 
The  grave  is  yawning; — as  its  roof  shall  cover 
My  limbs  with  dust  and  worms,  under  and  over. 
So  let  oblivion  hide  the  gxi^i.—Jidian  and  Maddah. 

*  ^  -S^E-  ^  ^  ^ 

With  thee  the  very  future  fled, 

I  stand  amid  the  past  alone, 
A  tomb  which  still  shall  guard  the  dead, 

Though  every  earlhlier  trace  be  flown; 
A  tomb  o'er  which  the  weeds  that  love 

Decay — their  wild  luxuriance  wreathe 
The  cold  and  callous  stone  above — 

And  only  thou  and  death  beneath. 

From  Unpiddishcd  Poems  by . 

THE  HISTORY  OF  SIR  REGINALD  GLANVILLE. 

"You    remember    my   character    at    school — the    difficulty 
with  which  you    drew  nie  froii]   tjie  yisionary  and  abstracted 


31  o  PELHAM  ;  OR, 

loneliness  which,  even  at  that  time,  was  more  consonant  to  my 
taste,  than  all  the  sports  and  society  resorted  to  by  other  boys 
— and  the  deep,  and,  to  you,  inexplicable  delight  with  which  I 
returned  to  my  reveries  and  solitude  again.  That  character  has 
continued  through  life  the  same  ;  circumstances  have  strength- 
ened, not  altered  it.  So  has  it  been'with  you ;  the  temper,  the 
habits,  the  tastes,  so  strongly  contrasted  with  mine  in  boyhood, 
have  lost  nothing  of  that  contrast.  Your  ardor  for  the  various 
ambition  of  life  is  still  the  antipodes  to  my  influence  :  your  dar- 
ing, restless,  thoughtful  resolution  in  the  pursuit,  still  shames 
my  indolence  and  abstraction.  You  are  still  the  votary  of  the 
world,  but  will  become  its  conqueror — I  its  fugitive — and  shall 
die  its  victim. 

"  After  we  parted  at  school,  I  went  for  a  short   time   to  a 

tutor's  in shire.     Of  this  place  I  soon   grew  weary ;  and, 

my  father's  death  rendering  me  in  a  great  measure  my  own 
master,  I  lost  no  time  in  leaving  it.  I  was  seized  with  that 
mania  for  travel  common  to  all  persons  of  my  youth  and  dis- 
position. My  mother  allowed  me  an  almost  unlimited  com- 
mand over  the  fortune  eventually  to  be  my  own  ;  and,  yielding 
to  my  wishes,  rather  than  her  fears,  she  suffered  me,  at  the  age 
of  eighteen,  to  set  out  for  the  Continent  alone.  Perhaps  the 
quiet  and  reserve  of  my  character  made  her  think  me  less  ex- 
posed to  the  dangers  of  youth,  than  if  I  had  been  of  a  mora 
active  and  versatile  temper.  This  is  no  uncommon  mistake ;  a 
serious  and  contemplative  disposition  is,  however,  often  the 
worst  formed  to  acquire  readily  the  knowledge  of  the  world, 
and  always  the  most  calculated  to  suffer  deeply  from  the  ex 
perience. 

"  I  took  up  my  residence  for  some  time  at  Spa.  It  is,  yov 
know,  perhaps,  a  place  dull  enough  to  make  gambling  the  onlj 
amusement ;  every  one  played — and  I  did  not  escape  the  con- 
tagion ;  nor  did  I  wish  it :  for,  like  the  minister  Godolphin,  my 
habitual  silence  made  me  love  gaming  for  its  own  sake,  because 
it  was  a  substitute  for  conversation.  This  pursuft  brought  me 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Tyrrell,  who  was  then  staying  at  Spa  ;  he 
had  not,  at  that  time,  quite  dissipated  his  fortune,  but  was  daily 
advancing  towards  so  desirable  a  consummation.  A  gambler's 
acquaintance  is  readily  made,  and  easily  kept, — providing  you 
gamble  too. 

"  We  became  as  intimate  as  the  reserve  of  my  habits  ever 
suffered  me  to  become  with  any  one  but  you.  He  was  many 
years  older  than  I — had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world — had 
mixed  much  in  its  best  societies,  and  at  that  time,  whatever  was 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN:  31 1 

the  vulgarity  of  his  mind,  had  little  of  the  coarseness  of  manner 
which  very  soon  afterwards  distinguished  him ;  evil  communi- 
cation works  rapidly  in  its  results.  Our  acquaintance  was, 
therefore,  natural  enough,  especially  when  it  is  considered  that 
my  purse  was  entirely  at  his  disposal — for  borrowing  is  '  twice 
blessed,'  in  him  that  takes  and  him  that  gives — the  receiver  be- 
comes complaisant  and  conceding,  and  the  lender  thinks  fa- 
vorably of  one  he  has  obliged. 

"We  parted  at  Spa,  under  a  mutual  promise  to  write.  I  for- 
get if  this  promise  was  kept — probably  not :  we  were  not,  how- 
ever, the  worst  friends  for  being  bad  correspondents.  I  con- 
tinued my  travels  for  about  an  other  year :  I  then  returned  to 
England,  the  same  melancholy  and  dreaming  enthusiast  as 
before.  It  is  true  that  we  are  the  creatures  of  circumstances; 
but  circumstances  are  also,  in  a  great  measure,  the  creatures  of 
us.  I  mean,  they  receive  their  influences  from  the  previous 
bent  of  our  own  minds ;  what  raises  one  would  depress  another, 
and  what  vitiates  my  neighbor  might  correct  me.  Thus  the  ex- 
perience of  the  world  makes  some  persons  more  worldly — others 
more  abstracted  ;  and  the  indulgence  of  the  senses  becomes  a 
violence  to  one  mind,  and  a  second  nature  to  another.  As  for 
me,  1  had  tasted  all  the  pleasures  youth  and  opulence  can 
purchase,  and  was  more  averse  to  them  than  ever.  I  had 
mixed  with  many  varieties  of  men — I  w'as  still  more  riveted  to 
the  monotony  of  self. 

"I  cannot  hope,  while  I  mention  these  peculiarities,  that  I 
am  a  very  uncommon  character :  I  believe  the  present  age  has 
produced  many  such.  Some  time  hence,  it  will  be  a  curious 
inquiry  to  ascertain  the  causes  of  that  acute  and  sensitive  mor- 
bidity of  mind,  which  has  been,  and  still  is,  so  epidemic  a 
disease.  You  know  me  well  enough  to  believe,  that  I  am  not 
fond  of  the  cant  of  assuming  an  artificial  character,  or  of  creat- 
ing a  fictitious  interest ;  and  I  am  far  from  wishing  to  impose 
upon  you  a  malady  of  constitution  for  a  dignity  of  mind.  You 
must  pardon  my  prolixity.  I  own  that  it  is  very  painful  to  me 
to  come  to  the  main  part  of  my  confessions,  and  I  am  endeav- 
oring to  prepare  myself  by  lingering  over  the  prelude." 

Glanville  paused  here  for  a  few  moments.  In  spite  of  the 
sententious  coolness  with  which  he  pretended  to  speak,  I  saw 
that  he  was  powerfully  and  painfully  affected. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "to  resume  the  thread  of  my  narra- 
tive; after  I  had  stayed  some  weeks  with  my  mother  and  sister, 
I  took  advantage  of  their  departure  for  the  continent,  and  re- 
solved to  make  a  tour  through  England.     Rich  people,  and  I 


312  ■  PELHAM ;  OR, 

have  always  been  very  rich,  grow  exceedingly  tired  of  the 
embarrassment  of  their  riches  ;  I  seized  with  delight  the  idea 
of  traveling  without  carriages  and  servants  ;  I  took  merely  a 
favorite  horse,  and  the  black  dog,  poor  Terror,  which  you  see 
now  at  my  feet, 

"  The  day  I  commenced  this  plan  was  to  me  the  epoch  of  a 
new  and  terrible  existence.  However,  you  must  pardon  me  if  I 
am  not  here  sufficiently  diffuse.  Suffice  it,  that  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  being  whom,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I 
loved  !  This  miniature  attempts  to  express  her  likeness  ;  the 
initials  at  the  back,  interwoven  with  my  own,  are  hers." 

"  Yes,"  said  I  incautiously,  "  they  are  the  initials  of  Gertrude 
Douglass." 

"  What ! "  cried  Glanville,  in  a  loud  tone,  which  he  instantly 
checked,  and  continued  in  an  indrawn,  muttered  whisper : 
"  How  long  is  it  since  I  heard  that  name  !  and  now — now — " 
he  broke  off  abruptly,  and  then  said,  with  a  calmer  voice,  "  I 
know  not  how  you  have  learnt  her  name ;  perhaps  you  will 
explain  !  " 

"  From  Thornton,"  said  I. 

"  And  he  has  told  you  more  ?  "  cried  Glanville,  as  if  gasping 
for  breath — "  the  histor}'^ — the  dreadful " 

"  Not  a  word,"  said  I,  hastily ;  "  he  was  with  me  when  I 
found  the  picture,  and  he  explained  the  initials." 

"It  is  well !  "  answered  Glanville,  recovering  himself.  "You 
will  see  presently  if  I  have  reasons  to  love  that  those  foul  and 
sordid  lips  should  profane  the  story  I  am  about  to  relate. 
Gertrude  was  the  only  daughter;  though  of  gentle  blood,  she 
was  no  match  for  me,  either  in  rank  or  fortune.  Did  I  say  just 
now  that  the  world  had  not  altered  me  ?  See  my  folly ;  one 
year  before  I  saw  her,  and  I  should  not  have  thought  her^  but 
myself^  honored  by  a  marriage ; — twelve  little  months  had  suf- 
ficed to — God  forgive  me  !  I  took  advantage  of  her  love — her 
innocence — she  fled  with  me — but  not  to  the  altar  !  " 

Again  Glanville  paused,  and  again,  by  a  violent  effort,  con- 
quered his  emotion,  and  proceeded  : — 

"  Never  let  vice  be  done  by  halves — never  let  a  man  invest  all 
his  purer  affections  in  the  woman  he  ruins — never  let  him  cher- 
ish the  kindness,  if  he  gratifies  the  selfishness,  of  his  heart.  A 
profligate  who  really  loves  his  victim,  is  one  of  the  most  wretched 
of  beings.  In  spite  of  my  successful  and  triumphant  passion — • 
in  spite  of  the  first  intoxication  of  possession,  and  the  better  and 
deeper  delight  of  a  reciprocity  of  thought — feeling,  sympathy, 
for  the  first  time,  found  ; — in  the  midst  of  all  the  luxuries  my 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GEjVTLEMAJV.  313 

wealth  could  produce,  and  of  the  voluptuous  and  spring-like  hues 
with  which  youth,  health,  and  first  love,  clothe  the  earth  which 
the  loved  one  treads,  and  the  air  which  she  inhales  :  in  spite  of 
these,  in  spite  of  all,  I  was  anything  but  happy.  If  Gertrude's 
cheek  seemed  a  shade  more  pale,  or  her  eyes  less  bright,  I  re- 
membered the  sacrifice  she  had  made  me,  and  believed  that  shs 
felt  it  too.  It  was  in  vain,  that,  with  the  tender  and  generous  de- 
votion— never  found  but  in  woman — she  assured  me  that  my  love 
was  a  recompense  for  all ;  the  more  touching  was  her  tenderness, 
the  more  poignant  was  my  remorse.  I  never  loved  but  her;  I 
have  never,  therefore,  entered  into  the  common-place  of  passion, 
and  I  cannot,  even  to  this  day,  look  upon  her  sex  as  ours  do  in 
general.  I  thought,  I  think  so  still,  that  ingratitude  to  a  woman 
is  often  a  more  odious  offence — I  am  sure  it  contains  a  more 
painful  penalty — than  ingratitude  to  a  man.  But  enough  of  this ; 
if  you  know  me,  you  can  penetrate  the  nature  of  my  feelings — ■ 
if  not,  it  is  in  vain  to  expect  your  sympathy. 

"  I  never  loved  living  long  in  one  place.  We  travelled  over 
the  greater  part  of  England  and  France.  What  must  be  the  en- 
chantment of  love  when  accompanied  with  innocence  and  joy, 
since,  even  in  sin,  in  remorse,  in  grief,  it  brings  us  a  rapture  to 
which  all  other  things  are  tame  !  Oh !  those  were  moments 
steeped  in  the  very  elixir  of  life  ;  overflowing  with  the  hoarded 
fondness  and  sympathies  of  hearts  too  full  for  words,  and  yet 
too  agitated  for  silence,  when  we  journeyed  alone,  and  at  night, 
and,  as  the  shadows  and  stillness  for  the  waning  hours  gathered 
round  us,  drew  closer  to  each  other,  and  concentrated  this  breath- 
ing world  in  the  deep  and  embracing  sentiment  of  our  mutual  love  ! 
It  was  then  that  I  laid  my  burning  temples  on  her  bosom,  and 
felt,  while  my  hand  clasped  hers,  that  my  visions  were  realized, 
and  my  wandering  spirit  had  sunk  unto  its  rest. 

"  I  remember  well  that,  one  night,  we  were  travelling  through 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  parts  of  England  ;  it  was  in  the  very 
height  and  flush  of  summer,  and  the  moon  (what  scene  of  love — 
whether  in  reality  or  romance — has  anything  of  tenderness,  or 
passion,  or  divinity,  where  her  light  is  not!)  filled  the  intense 
skies  of  June  with  her  presence,  and  cast  a  sadder  and  paler 
beauty  over  Gertrude's  cheek.  She  was  always  of  a  melancholy 
and  despondent  temper  ;  perhaps,  for  that  reason,  she  was  more 
congenial  to  my  own  ;  and  when  I  gazed  upon  her  that  night,  I 
was  not  surprised  to  see  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  'You  will 
laugh  at  me,'  she  said,  as  I  kissed  them  off  and  inquired  into 
the  cause  ;  'but  I  feel  a  presentiment  that  I  can  not  shake  off; 
it  tells  me  that  you  will  travel  this  road  again  before  many  months 


314  PELHAM;  OR, 

are  past,  and  that  I  shall  not  be  with  you,  perhaps  not  upon  the 
earth.'  She  was  right  in  all  her  forebodings,  but  the  suggestion 
of  her  death  ; — that  came  later. 

"  We  took  up  our  residence  for  some  time  at  a  beautiful  situa- 
tion, a  short  distance  from  a  small  watering-place.  Here,  to  my 
great  surprise,  I  met  with  Tyrrell.  He  had  come  here  partly  to 
see  a  relation  from  whom  he  had  expectations,  and  partly  to  re- 
cruit his  health,  which  was  much  broken  by  his  irregularities 
and  excesses.  I  could  not  refuse  to  renew  my  old  acquaintance 
with  him  ;  and  indeed,  I  thought  him  too  much  of  a  man  of  the 
world,  and  of  society,  to  feel  with  him  that  particular  delicacy, 
in  regard  to  Gertrude,  which  made  me  in  general  shun  all  inter- 
course with  my  former  friends.  He  was  in  great  pecuniary  em- 
barrassment— much  more  deeply  so  than  I  then  imagined  ;  for  I 
believed  the  embarrassment  to  be  only  temporary.  However, 
my  purse  was  then,  as  before,  at  his  disposal,  and  he  did  not 
scruple  to  avail  himself  very  largely  of  my  offers.  He  came  fre- 
quently to  our  house  ;  and  poor  Gertrude,  who  thought  I  had, 
for  her  sake,  made  a  real  sacrifice  in  renouncing  my  acquaintance, 
endeavored  to  conquer  her  usual  ditifidence,  and  that  more  pain- 
ful feeling  than  diffidence,  natural  to  her  station,  and  even  to 
affect  a  pleasure  in  the  society  of  my  friend,  which  she  was  very 
far  from  feeling. 

"  I  was  detained  at for  several  weeks  by  Gertrude's  con- 
finement. The  child — happy  being  ! — died  a  week  after  its  birth. 
Gertrude  was  still  in  bed,  and  unable  to  leave  it,  when  I  received 
a  letter  from  Ellen,  to  say  that  my  mother  was  then  staying  at 
Toulouse,  and  dangerously  ill  ;  if  I  wished  once  more  to  see  her, 
Ellen  besought  me  to  lose  no  time  in  setting  off  for  for  the  con- 
tinent. You  may  imagine  my  situation,  or  rather  you  can  not, 
for  you  can  not  conceive  the  smallest  particle  of  that  intense 
love  I  bore  to  Gertrude.  To  you — to  any  other  man,  it  might 
seem  no  extraordinary  hardship  to  leave  her  even  for  an  uncer- 
tain period — to  me  it  was  like  tearing  away  the  very  life  from  my 
heart. 

"  I  procured  her  a  sort  of  half  companion,  and  half  nurse  ;  I 
provided  for  her  everything  that  the  most  anxious  and  fearful 
love  could  suggest ;  and,  with  a  mind  full  of  forebodings  too 
darkly  to  be  realized  hereafter,  I  hastened  to  the  nearest  sea-port, 
and  set  sail  for  France. 

"  When  I  arrived  at  Toulouse,  my  mother  was  much  better, 
but  still  in  a  very  uncertain  and  dangerous  state  of  health.  I 
stayed  with  her  for  more  than  a  month,  during  which  time  every 
post  brought  me  a  line  from  Gertrude,  and  bore  back  a  message 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  315 

from  '  my  heart  to  hers  '  in  return.  This  was  no  mean  consola- 
tion, more  especially  when  each  letter  spoke  of  increasing"  health 
and  strength.  At  the  month's  end,  I  was  preparing  to  return — . 
my  mother  was  slowly  recovering,  and  I  no  longer  had  any  fears 
on  her  account ;  but,  there  are  links  in  our  destiny  fearfully  in- 
terwoven with  each  other,  and  ending  only  in  the  anguish  of  our 
ultimate  doom.  The  day  before  that  fixed  for  my  departure,  I 
had  been  into  a  house  where  an  epidemic  disease  raged ;  that 
night  I  complained  of  oppressive  and  deadly  illness — before 
morning  I  was  in  a  high  fever. 

"  During  the  time  I  was  sensible  of  my  state,  I  wrote  con- 
stantly to  Gertrude,  and  carefully  concealed  my  illness;  but  for 
several  days  I  was  delirious.  When  I  recovered,  I  called 
eagerly  for  my  letters — there  were  none : — 7ione  !  I  could  not 
believe  I  was  yet  awake  ;  but  days  still  passed  on,  and  not  a  line 
from  England — from  Gertrude.  The  instant  I  was  able,  I  in- 
sisted upon  putting  horses  to  my  carriage  ;  I  could  bear  no  longer 
the  torture  of  my  suspense.  By  the  most  rapid  journeys  my  de- 
bility would  allow  me  to  bear,  I  arrived  in  England.     I  travelled 

down  to by  the  same  road  that  I  had  gone  over  with  her ! 

the  words  of  hir  foreboding,  at  that  time,  sank  like  ice  into  my 
heart,  '  You  will  travel  this  road  again  before  many  months  are 
past,  and  I  shall  not  b3  with  you  ;  perhaps,  I  shall  not  be  upon 
the  earth  ! '  At  that  thought  I  could  have  called  unto  the  grave 
to  open  for  me.  Her  unaccountable  and  lengthened  silence,  in 
spite  of  all  the  urgency  and  entreaties  of  my  letters  for  a  reply, 
filled  me  with  presentiments  the  most  fearful.  Oh,  God — oh, 
God,  they  were  nothing  to  the  truth  ! 

"At  last  I  arrived   at  :  my  carriage  stopped  at  the  very 

house — my  whole  frame  was  completely  frozen  with  dread — I 
trembled  from  limb  to  limb- -the  ice  of  a  thousand  winters 
seemed  curdling  through  my  blood.  The  bell  rang — once,  twice 
— no  answer — I  would  have  leaped  out  of  the  carriage — I  would 
have  forced  an  entrance  ;  but  I  was  unable  to  move.  A  man 
fettered  and  spjU-bound  by  an  incubus,  is  less  helpless  than  I 
was.     At  last,  an  old  female  I  had  never  seen  before,  appeared. 

" '  Where  is  she  !  How  ! — '  I  could  utter  no  more — my  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  inquisitive  and  frightened  countenance 
opposite  to  my  own.  Those  eyes,  I  thought,  might  have  said 
all  that  my  lips  could  not  ;  I  was  deceived — the  old  woman  un- 
derstood me  no  more  than  I  did  her :  another  person  appeared 
— I  recognized  the  face — it  was  that  of  a  girl,  who  had  been  one 
of  our  attendants.  Will  you  believe,  that  at  that  sight,  the  sight 
of  one  I  had  seen  before,  and   could  associate  with  the  rcmem- 


3i6  PELHAM;  OR, 

brance  of  the  breathing,  the  living,  the  present  Gertrude,  a  thrill 
of  joy  flashed  across  me — my  fears  seemed  to  vanish — my  spell 
to  cease  ! 

"  I  sprang  from  the  can  iage  ;  I  caught  the  girl  by  the  robe, 
'Your  mistress,'  said  I,  'your  mistress — she  is  well — she  is  alive — 
speak,  speak ! '  The  girl  shrieked  out ;  my  eagerness,  and,  per- 
haps, my  emaciated  and  altered  appearance,  terrified  her  ;  but 
she  had  the  strong  nerves  of  youth,  and  was  soon  re-assured. 
She  requested  me  to  step  in,  and  she  would  tell  me  all.  My 
wife  (Gertrude  always  went  by  that  name)  was  alive,  and,  she  be- 
lieved, well,  but  she  had  left  that  place  some  weeks  since. 
Trembling,  and  still  fearful,  but  in  heaven,  comparatively  to  my 
former  agony,  I  followed  the  girl  and  the  old  woman  into  the 
house. 

"The  former  got  me  some  water.  '  Now,'  said  I,  when  I  had 
drunk  a  long  and  hearty  draught,  '  I  am  ready  to  hear  nil — my 
wife  has  left  this  house,  you  say — for  what  place  ?  '  The  girl 
hesitated  and  looked  down  ;  the  old  woman  who  was  somewhat 
deaf  and  did  not  rightly  understand  my  questions,  or  the  nature 
of  the  personal  interest  I  had  in  the  reply,  answered, — 'What 
does  the  gentleman  want  ?  the  poor  young  lady  who  was  last 
here  ?     Lord  help  her ! ' 

"  '  What  of  her  ? '  I  called  out  in  a  new  alarm.  '  What  of 
her  ?     Where  has  she  gone  ?     Who  took  her  away  ? ' 

"  '  Who  took  her  ! '  mumbled  the  old  woman,  fretful  at  my 
impatient  tone  ;  '  who  took  her  ?  luhy,  the  mad  doctor  to  be  sure! ' 

"  I  heard  no  more  ;  my  frame  could  support  no  longer  the 
agonies  my  mind  had  undergone  ;  I  fell  lifeless  on  the  floor. 

"  When  I  recovered,  it  was  at  the  dead  of  the  night.  I  was  in 
bed,  the  old  woman  and  the  girl  were  at  my  side.  I  rose  slowly 
and  calmly.  You  know,  all  men  who  have  ever  suffered  much, 
know  the  strange  anomalies  of  despair — the  quiet  of  our  veriest 
anguish.  Deceived  by  my  bearing,  I  learned  by  degrees  from 
my  attendants,  that  Gertrude  had  some  weeks  since  betrayed 
certain  symptoms  of  insanity;  that  these,  in  a  very  few  hours, 
arose  to  an  alarming  pitch.  From  some  reason  the  woman 
could  not  explain,  she  had,  a  short  time  before,  discarded  the 
companion  I  had  left  with  her  ;  she  was,  therefore,  alone  among 
servants.  I'hey  sent  for  the  ignorant  practitioners  of  the  place  ; 
they  tried  their  nostrums  without  success;  her  madness  in- 
creased ;  her  attendants,  with  that  superstitious  horror  of 
insanity  common  to  the  lower  classes,  became  more  and  more 
violently  alarmed  ;  the  landlady  insisted  on  her  removal  ;  and 
— and — I  told  you,  Pelham — I  told  you — they  sent  her  away — 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  317 

sent  her  to  a  mad  house  !  All  this  I  listened  to  ! — all  ! — ay, 
and  patiently.     I  noted  down  the  address  of  her  present  abode  ; 

it  was  about  the  distance  of  twenty  miles  from •.     I  ordered 

fresh  horses  and  set  off  immediately. 

"  I  arrived  there  at  day-break.  It  was  a  large,  old  house, 
which,  like  a  French  hotel,  seemed  to  have  no  visible  door : 
dark  and  gloomy,  the  pile  appeared  worthy  of  the  purpose  to 
which  it  was  devoted.  It  was  a  long  time  before  we  aroused  any 
one  to  answer  our  call ;  at  length  I  was  ushered  into  a  small 
parlor — how  minutely  I  remembered  every  article  in  the  room  ! 
— what  varieties  there  are  in  the  extreme  passions  !  sometimes 
the  same  feeling  will  deaden  all  the  senses — sometimes  render 
them  a  hundredfold  more  acute  ! 

"At  last,  a  man  of  a  smiling  and  rosy  aspect  appeared.  He 
pointed  to  a  chair — rubbed  his  hands — and  begged  me  to  un- 
fold my  business  ;  few  words  sufificed  to  do  that,  I  requested  to 
see  his  patient ;  I  demanded  by  what  authority  she  had  been  put 
under  his  care.  The  man's  face  altered.  He  was  but  little 
pleased  with  the  nature  of  my  visit.  '  The  lady,'  he  said,  coolly, 
'  had  been  entrusted  to  his  care,  with  an  adequate  remuneration, 
by  Mr.  Tyrrell;  without  that  gentleman's  permission,  he  could 
not  think  even  of  suffering  me  to  see  her.'  I  controlled  my  pas- 
sion ;  I  knew  something,  if  not  of  the  nature  of  private  mad- 
houses, at  least  of  that  of  mankind.  I  claimed  his  patient  as  my 
wife :  I  expressed  myself  obliged  by  his  care,  and  begged  his 
acceptance  of  a  further  remuneration,  which  I  tendered,  and 
which  was  eagerly  accepted.  The  way  was  now  cleared  :  there 
is  no  hell  to  which  a  golden  breach  will  not  win  your  admittance. 

"  The  man  detained  me  no  longer ;  he  hastened  to  lead  the 
way.  We  passed  through  various  long  passages  ;  sometimes 
the  low  moan  of  pain  and  weakness  came  upon  my  ear — some- 
times the  confused  murmur  of  the  idiot's  drivelling  soliloquy. 
From  one  passage,  at  right  angles  with  the  one  through  which 
we  proceeded,  broke  a  fierce  and  thrilling  shriek;  it  sank  at 
once  into  silence — perhaps  bctieath  the  lash  ! 

"  We  were  now  in  a  different  department  of  the  building — all 
was  silence — hushed — deep — breathless  ;  this  seemed  to  me 
more  awful  than  the  terrible  sounds  I  had  just  heard.  My 
guide  went  slowly  on,  sometimes  breaking  the  stillness  of  the 
dim  gallery  by  the  jingle  of  the  keys — sometimes  a  muttered 
panegyric  on  himself  and  his  humanity.  I  neither  heeded  nor 
answered  him. 

"  We  read  in  the  annals  of  the  Inquisition,  of  every  limb, 
nerve,  sinew   of   the    victim,   being   so   nicely   and   accurately 


3i8  PELHAM ;  OR, 

Strained  to  their  utmost,  that  the  frame  would  not  bear  the  ad- 
ditional screwing  of  a  single  hair-breadth.  Such  seemed  my 
state.  We  came  to  a  small  door,  at  the  right  hand  ;  it  was  the 
last  but  one  in  the  passage.  We  paused  before  it.  '  Stop,' 
said  I, '  for  one  moment ; '  and  I  was  so  faint  and  sick  at  heart, 
that  I  leaned  against  the  wall  to  recover  myself,  before  I  let 
him  open  the  door ;  when  he  did,  it  was  a  greater  relief  than  I 
can  express,  to  see  that  all  was  utterly  dark.  '  Wait,  sir,'  said 
the  guide,  as  he  entered  ;  and  a  sullen  noise  told  me  that  he 
was  unbarring  the  heavy  shutter. 

"  Slowly  the  grey  cold  light  of  the  morning  broke  in  ;  a  dark 
figure  was  stretched  upon  a  wretched  bed,  at  the  far  end  of  the 
room.  She  raised  herself  at  the  sound.  She  turned  her  face 
towards  me ;  I  did  not  fall,  nor  faint,  nor  shriek  ;  I  stood  mo- 
tionless, as  if  fixed  into  stone  ;  and  yet  it  was  Gertrude  upon 
whom  I  gazed.  Oh,  Heaven  !  who  but  myself  could  have  rec- 
ognized her  ?  Her  cheek  was  as  the  cheek  of  the  dead — the 
hueless  skin  clung  to  the  bone — the  eye  was  dull  and  glassy  for 
one  moment ;  the  next  it  became  terrible  and  preternaturally 
bright — but  not  with  the  ray  of  intellect,  or  consciousness,  or 
recognition.  She  looked  long  and  hard  at  me  ;  a  voice,  hollow 
and  broken,  but  which  still  penetrated  my  heart,  came  forth 
through  the  wan  lips,  that  scarcely  moved  with  the  exertion. 
'  I  am  very  cold,'  it  said — '  but  if  I  complain,  you  will  beat  me.' 
She  fell  down  again  upon  the  bed,  and  hid  her  face. 

"  My  guide,  who  was  leaning  carelessly  by  the  window, 
turned  to  me  with  a  sort  of  smirk — 'This  is  her  way,  sir,'  he 
said ;  *  her  madness  is  of  a  very  singular  description  :  we  have 
not,  as  yet,  been  able  to  discover  how  far  it  extends  ;  sometimes 
she  seems  conscious  of  the  past,  sometimes  utterly  oblivious  of 
everything  :  for  days  she  is  perfectly  silent,  or,  at  least,  says 
nothing  more  than  you  have  just  heard;  but,  at  times,  she  raves 
so  violently,  that — that — but  I  never  use  force  where  it  ca?i  be 
helped.^ 

"  1  looked  at  the  man,  but  I  could  not  answer,  unless  I  had 
torn  him  to  pieces  on  the  spot.  I  turned  away  hastily  from  the 
room  :  but  I  did  not  quit  the  house  without  Gertrude — I  placed 
her  in  the  carriage,  by  my  side — notwithstanding  all  the  protes- 
tations and  fears  of  the  keeper  ;  these  were  readily  silenced  by 
the  sum  I  gave  him  ;  it  was  large  enough  to  have  liberated 
half  his  household.  In  fact,  I  gathered  from  his  conversation, 
that  Tyrrell  had  spoken  of  Gertrude  as  an  unhappy  female 
whom  he  himself  had   seduced,  and  would   now  be   rid  of.     I 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAIV  319 

thank  you,  Pelham,  for  that  frown,  but  keep  your  indignation 
till  a  fitter  season  for  it. 

"I  took  my  victim,  for  I  then  regarded  her  as  such,  to  a  se- 
cluded and  lonely  spot  :  I  procured  for  her  whatever  advice  Eng- 
land could  afford  ;  all  was  in  vain.  Night  and  day  I  was  by  her 
side,  but  she  never,  for  a  moment,  seemed  to  recollect  me  :  yet 
were  there  times  of  fierce  and  overpowering  delirium,  when  my 
name  was  uttered  in  the  transport  of  the  most  passionate  enthusi- 
asm-whenmyfeatures  as  absent,  though  not  present,  were  recalled 
and  dwelt  upon  with  all  the  minuteness  of  the  most  faithful  de- 
tail ;  and  I  knelt  by  her  in  all  those  moments,  when  no  other 
human  being  was  near,  and  clasped  her  one  hand,  and  wiped 
the  dew  from  her  forehead,  and  gazed  upon  her  convulsed  and 
changing  face,  and  called  upon  her  in  a  voice  which  could  once 
have  allayed  her  wildest  emotions;  and  had  the  agony  of  seeing 
her  eye  dwell  upon  me  with  the  most  estranged  indifference,  or 
the  most  vehement  and  fearful  aversion.  But,  ever  and  anon, 
she  uttered  words  which  chilled  the  marrow  of  my  bones  ; 
words  which  I  would  not,  dared  not  believe,  had  any  meaning  or 
method  in  their  madness — but  which  entered  into  my  brain,  and 
preyed  there  like  the  devouring  of  a  fire.  There  was  a  truth  in 
those  ravings — a  reason  in  that  incoherence — and  my  cup  was 
not  yet  full. 

"  At  last,  one  physician,  who  appeared  to  me  to  have  more 
knowledge  than  the  rest,  of  the  mysterious  workings  of  her 
dreadful  disease,  advised  me  to  take  her  to  the  scene  of  her 
first  childhood  :  '  Those  scenes,'  said  he  justly, '  are  in  all  stages 
of  life  the  most  fondly  remembered ;  and  I  have  noted,  that  in 
many  cases  of  insanity  places  are  easier  called  than  persons  ; 
perhaps,  if  we  can  once  awaken  one  link  in  the  chain,  it  will 
communicate  to  the  rest.' 

"  I  took  this  advice,  and  set  off  to  Norfolk.  Her  early  home 
was  not  many  miles  distant  from  the  church-yard  where  you 
once  met  me,  and  in  that  church-yard  her  mother  was  buried. 
6"//^  had  died  before  Gertrude's  flight;  the  father's  death  had 
followed  it :  perhaps  my  sufferings  were  a  just  retribution ! 
The  house  had  gone  into  other  hands,  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in 
engaging  it.  Thank  Heaven,  I  was  spared  the  pain  of  seeing  any 
of  Gertrude's  relations. 

"  It  was  night  when  we  moved  to  the  house.  I  had  placed  with- 
in the  room  where  she  used  to  sleep,  all  the  furniture  and  books, 
with  which  it  appeared,  from  my  inquiries,  to  have  been  formerly 
filled.  We  laid  her  in  t'ne  bed  that  had  held  that  faded  and  al- 
tered form,  in  its  freshest  and  i^urest  years.     I  shrouded  myself 


320  PELHAM;  OR, 

in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  counted  the  dull  minutes  till  the 
day-light  dawned.  I  pass  over  the  detail  of  my  recital — the  ex- 
periment partially  succeeded — would  to  God  that  it  had  not ! 
would  that  she  had  gone  down  to  her  grave  with  her  dreadful  se- 
cret unrevealed  !  would — but — " 

Here  Glanville's  voice  failed  him,  and  there  was  a  brief  silence 
before  he  re-commenced. 

"  Gertrude  now  had  many  lucid  intervals  ;  but  these  my  pres- 
ence were  always  sufficient  to  change  into  a  delirious  raving 
even  more  incoherent  than  her  insanity  had  ever  yet  been.  She 
would  fly  from  me  with  the  most  fearful  cries,  bury  her  face  in 
her  hands,  and  seem  like  one  oppressed  and  haunted  by  a 
supernatural  visitation,  as  long  as  I  remained  in  the  room  ;  the 
moment  I  left  her,  she  began,  though  slowly,  to  recover. 

"  This  was  to  me  the  bitterest  afifiiction  of  all — to  be  forbidden 
to  nurse,  to  cherish,  to  tend  her,  was  like  taking  from  me  my 
last  hope  !  But  little  can  the  thoughtless  or  the  worldly  dream 
of  the  depths  of  a  real  love  ;  I  used  to  wait  all  day  by  her  door, 
and  it  was  luxury  enough  to  me  to  catch  her  accents,  or  hear  her 
move,  or  sigh,  or  even  weep ;  and  all  night,  when  she  could  not 
know  of  my  presence,  I  used  to  lie  down  by  her  bedside  ;  and  when 
I  sank  into  a  short  and  convulsed  sleep,  I  saw  her  once  more,  in 
my  brief  and  fleeting  dreams,  in  all  the  devoted  love,,  and  glow- 
ing beauty,  which  had  once  constitnted  the  whole  of  my  happi- 
ness, and  7ny  world. 

"  One  day  I  had  been  called  from  my  post  by  her  door.  They 
came  to  me  hastily — she  was  in  strong  convulsions.  I  flew  up 
the  stairs,  and  supported  her  in  my  arms  till  the  fits  had  ceased  : 
we  then  placed  her  in  bed  ;  she  never  rose  from  it  again  :  but 
on  that  bed  of  death,  the  words,  as  well  as  the  cause  of  her  for- 
mer insanity,  were  explained — the  mystery  was  unravelled. 

"  It  was  a  still  and  breathless  night.  The  moon,  which  was 
at  its  decrease,  came  through  the  half-closed  shutters,  and,  be- 
neath its  solemn  and  eternal  light,  she  yielded  to  my  entreaties, 
and  revealed  all.  The  man — my  friend — Tyrrell — had  polluted 
her  ear  with  his  addresses,  and  when  forbidden  the  house,  had 
bribed  the  woman  I  had  left  witli  her  to  convey  his  letters; — 
she  was  discharged — but  Tyrrell  was  no  ordinary  villain  ;  he  en- 
tered the  house  one  evening,  when  no  one  but  Gertrude  was 
there. — Come  near  me,  Pelham — nearer — bend  down  your  ear 
— he  used  force,  violence  !  That  night  Gertrude's  senses  de 
serted  her — you  know  the  rest. 

"  The  moment  that  I  gathered,  from  Gertrude's  broken  sen- 
tences, their  meaning,  that  moment  the  demon  entered  into  my 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  321 

soul.  All  human  feelings  seemed  to  fly  from  my  heart ;  it  shrank 
into  one  burning,  and  thirsty,  and  fiery  want — and  that  want 
was  for  revenge  !  I  would  have  sprung  from  the  bedside,  but 
Gertrude's  hand  clung  to  me,  and  detained  me  ;  the  damp,  chill 
grasp  grew  colder  and  colder — it  ceased — the  hand  fell — I  turned 
— one  slight,  but  awful  shudder,  went  over  that  face,  made  yet 
more  wan  by  the  light  of  the  waning  and  ghastly  moon — one 
convulsion  shook  the  limbs — one  murmur  passed  the  falling 
and  hueless  lips.  I  cannot  tell  you  the  rest — you  know — you  can 
guess  it. 

"  That  day  week  we  buried  her  in  the  lonely  church-yard — 
where  she  had,  in  her  lucid  moments,  wished  to  lie — by  the  side 
of  her  mother." 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 


I  breathed, 


But  not  the  breath  of  human  life  ; 
A  serpent  round  my  heart  was  wreathed, 
And  stung  my  very  thought  to  strife. —  The  Giaour. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  the  most  painful  part  of  my  story  is  at  an 
end.     You  will  now  be  able  to  account  for  our  meeting  in  the 

church-yard  at .     I  secured  myself  a  lodging  at  a  cottage 

not  far  from  the  spot  which  held  Gertrude's  remains.  Night  af- 
ter night  I  wandered  to  that  lonely  place,  and  longed  for  a  couch 
beside  the  sleeper,  whom  I  mourned  in  the  selfishness  of  my  soul. 
I  prostrated  myself  on  the  mound  :  I  humbled  myself  to  tears. 
In  the  overflowing  anguish  of  my  heart  I  forgot  all  that  had  aroused 
its  stormier  passions  into  life.  Revenge,  hatred, — all  vanished. 
I  lifted  up  my  face  to  the  tender  heavens  :  I  called  aloud  to  the 
silent  and  placid  air  ;  and  when  I  turned  again  to  that  uncon- 
scious mound,  I  thought  of  nothing  but  the  sweetness  of  our 
early  love,  and  the  bitterness  of  her  early  death.  It  was  in  such 
moments  that  your  footstep  broke  upon  my  grief  :  the  instant 
others  had  seen  me — other  eyes  penetrated  the  sanctity  of  my 
regret — from  that  instant,  whatever  was  more  soft  and  holy  in 
the  passions  and  darkness  of  my  mind  seemed  to  vanish  away 
like  a  scroll.  I  again  returned  to  the  intense  and  withering  re- 
membrance which  was  henceforward  to  make  the  very  key  and 
pivot  of  my  existence.  I  again  recalled  the  last  night  of  Ger- 
trude's life  ;  I  again  shuddered  at  the  low,  murmured  sovmds, 
whose  dreadful  sense  broke  slowly  upon  my  soul.  I  again  felt 
21 


322  PELHAM;  OR, 

the  cold — cold,  damp  grasp  of  those  wan  and  dying  fingers  ;  and 
I  again  nerved  my  heart  to  an  iron  strength,  and  vowed  deep, 
deep-rooted,  endless,  implacable  revenge. 

"  The  morning  after  the  night  you  saw  me,  I  left  my  abode. 
I  went  to  London  and  attempted  to  methodize  my  plans  of  venge- 
ance. The  first  thing  to  discover,  was  Tyrrell's  present  resi- 
dence. By  accident,  I  heard  he  was  at  Paris,  and,  within  two 
hours  of  receiving  the  intelligence,  I  set  off  for  that  city.  On 
arriving  there,  the  habits  of  the  gambler  soon  discovered  him 
to  my  search.  I  saw  him  one  night  at  a  hell.  He  was  evidently 
in  distressed  circumstances,  and  the  fortune  of  the  table  was 
against  him.  Unperceived  by  him,  I  feasted  my  eyes  on  his 
changing  countenance,  as  those  deadly  and  wearing  transitions 
of  feeling,  only  to  be  produced  by  the  gaming  table  passed  over 
it.  While  I  gazed  upon  him,  a  thought  of  more  exquisite  and 
refined  revenge,  than  had  yet  occurred  to  me,  flashed  upon  my 
mind.  Occupied  with  the  ideas  it  gave  rise  to,  I  went  into  the 
adjoining  room,  which  was  quite  empty.  There  I  seated  myself, 
and  endeavored  to  develop,  more  fully,  the  rude  and  imperfect 
outline  of  my  scheme. 

"  The  arch  tempter  favored  me  with  a  trusty  coadjutor  in  my 
designs.  I  was  lost  in  a  reverie,  when  I  heard  myself  accosted 
by  name.     I  looked  up,  and  beheld  a  man  whom  I  had  often 

seen   with    Tyrrell,  both    at    Spa,  and (the  watering-place 

where,  with  Gertrude,  I  had  met  Tyrrell).  He  was  a  person  of 
low  birth  and  character  ;  but  esteemed,  from  his  love  of  coarse 
humor,  and  vulgar  enterprise,  a  man  of  infinite  parts — a  sort  of 
Yorick — by  the  set  most  congenial  to  Tyrrell's  tastes.  By  this 
Undue  reputation,  and  the  levelling  habit  of  gaming,  to  which  he 
addicted,  he  was  raised,  in  certain  societies,  much  above  his 
proper  rank  :  need  I  say  that  this  man  was  Thornton  .■*  I  was 
but  slightly  acquainted  him  ;  however,  he  accosted  me  cordially, 
and  endeavored  to  draw  me  into  conversation. 

"  '  Have  you  seen  Tyrrell  ? '  said  he  ;  'he  is  at  it  again  ; 
what's  bred  in  the  bone,  you  know,  etc'  I  turned  pale  with 
the  mention  of  Tyrrell's  name,  and  replied  very  laconically,  to 
what  purpose,  I  forget. — '  Ah  !  ah  !  '  rejoined  Thornton,  eyeing 
me  with  an  air  of  impertinent  familiarity — '  I  see  you  have  not 

forgiven    him ;    he    played    you   but    a   shabby   trick  at ; 

seduced  your  mistress,  or  something  of  that  sort ;  he  told  me 
all  about  it  :  pray,  how  is  the  poor  girl  now  ? ' 

"  I  made  no  reply  ;  I  sank  down  and  gasped  for  breath.  All 
I  had  suffered  seemed  nothing  compared  to  the  indignity  I  then 
endured.     She — she — who  had  once  been  my  pride — my  honor — 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN:  323 

life — to  be  thus  spoken  of — and .     I  could  not  pursue  the 

idea.  I  rose  hastily,  looked  at  Thornton  with  a  glance,  which 
might  have  abashed  a  man  less  shameless  and  callous  than  him- 
self, and  left  the  room. 

"  That  night,  as  I  tossed  restless  and  feverish  on  my  bed  of 
thorns,  I  saw  how  useful  Thornton  might  be  to  me  in  the  prose- 
cution of  the  scheme  I  had  entered  into ;  and  the  next  morning 
I  sought  him  out,  and  purchased  (no  very  difficult  matter)  both 
his  secresy  and  his  assistance.  My  plan  of  vengeance,  to  one 
who  had  seen  and  observed  less  of  the  varieties  of  human 
nature  than  you  have  done,  might  seem  far-fetched  and  unnat- 
ural ;  for  while  the  superficial  are  ready  to  allow  eccentricity  as 
natural  in  the  coolness  of  ordinary  life,  they  never  suppose  it 
can  exist  in  in  the  heat  of  the  passions — as  if,  in  such  moments, 
anything  was  ever  considered  absurd  in  the  means  which  was 
favorable  to  the  end.  Were  the  secrets  of  one  passionate  and 
irregulated  heart  laid  bare,  there  would  be  more  romance  in 
them,  than  in  all  the  fables  which  we  turn  from  with  incredulity 
and  disdain,  as  exaggerated  aud  over-drawn. 

"Among:  the  thousand  schemes  for  retribution  which  had 
chased  each  other  across  my  mind,  the  death  of  my  victnn  was 
only  the  ulterior  object.  Death,  indeed — the  pang  of  one  mo- 
ment— appeared  to  me  but  very  feeble  justice  for  the  life  of 
lingering  and  restless  anguish  to  which  his  treachery  had  con- 
demned me ;  but  my  penance,  my  doom,  I  could  have  forgiven  : 
it  was  the  fate  of  a  more  innocent  and  injured  being  which  irri- 
tated the  sting  and  fed  the  venom  of  my  revenge.  That  revenge 
no  ordinary  punishment  could  appease.  If  fanaticism  can  only 
be  satisfied  by  the  rack  and  the  flames,  you  may  readily  con- 
ceive a  like  unappeasable  fury,  in  a  hatred  so  deadly,  so  con- 
centrated, and  so  just  as  mine — and  if  fanaticism  persuades  it- 
self into  a  virtue,  so  also  did  my  hatred. 

"The  scheme  which  I  resolved  upon  was,  to  attach  Tyrrell 
more  and  more  to  the  gaming-table,  to  be  present  at  his  infatua- 
tion, to  feast  my  eyes  upon  the  feverish  intensity  of  his  sus- 
pense— to  reduce  him,  step  by  step,  to  the  lowest  abyss  of 
poverty — to  glut  my  soul  with  the  abjectness  and  humiliation  of 
his  penurv — to  strip  him  of  all  aid,  consolation,  sympathy,  and 
friendship — to  follow  him,  unseen,  to  his  wretched  and  squalid 
home — to  mark  the  struggles  of  the  craving  nature  with  the 
loathing  pride — and,  finally,  to  watch  the  frame  wear,  the  eye 
sink,  the  lip  grow  livid,  and  all  the  terrible  and  torturing  prog- 
ress of  gnawing  want,  to  utter  starvation.  Then,  in  that  last 
state,  but  not  before,  1  might  reveal  myself — stand  by  the  hope- 


324  PELHAM;  OR, 

less  and  succorless  bed  of  death — shriek  out  in  the  dizzy  ear  a 
name,  which  could  treble  the  horrors  of  remembrance — snatch 
from  the  struggling  and  agonizing  conscience  the  last  plank,  the 
last  straw,  to  which  in  its  madness,  it  could  cling,  and  blacken 
the  shadows  of  departing  life,  by  opening  to  the  shuddering 
sense  the  threshold  of  an  impatient  and  yawning  hell. 

"  Hurried  away  by  the  unhallowed  fever  of  these  projects,  I 
thought  of  nothing  but  their  accomplishment.  I  employed 
Thornton,  who  still  maintained  his  intimacy  with  Tyrrell,  to  de- 
coy him  more  and  more  to  the  gambling-house  ;  and,  as  the  un- 
equal chances  of  the  public  table  were  not  rapid  enough  in  their 
termination  to  consummate  the  ruin  even  of  an  impetuous  and 
vehement  gamester,  like  Tyrrell,  so  soon  as  my  impatience  de- 
sired, Thornton  took  every  opportunity  of  engaging  him  in 
private  play,  and  accelerating  my  object  by  the  unlawful  arts  of 
which  he  was  master.  My  enemy  was  every  day  approaching 
the  farthest  verge  of  ruin  ;  near  relations  he  had  none,  all  his 
distant  ones  he  had  disobliged  ;  all  his  friends,  and  even  his 
acquaintance,  he  had  fatigued  by  his  importunity,  or  disgusted 
by  his  conduct.  In  the  whole  world  there  seemed  not  a  being 
who  would  stretch  forth  a  helping  hand  to  save  him  from  the 
total  and  penniless  beggary  to  which  he  was  hopelessly  advanc- 
ing. Out  of  the  wrecks  of  his  former  property,  and  the  gener- 
osity of  former  friends,  whatever  he  had  already  wrung,  had 
been  immediately  staked  at  the  gaming-house  and  immediately 
lost. 

"  Perhaps  this  would  not  so  soon  have  been  the  case,  if 
Thornton  had  not  artfully  fed  and  sustained  his  expectations. 
He  had  been  long  employed  by  Tyrrell  in  a  professional  capac- 
ity, and  he  knew  well  all  the  gamester's  domestic  affairs ;  and 
when  he  promised,  should  things  come  to  the  worst,  to  find  some 
expedient  to  restore  them,  Tyrrell  easily  adopted  so  flattering  a 
belief. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  had  taken  the  name  and  disguise  under  favor 
of  which  you  met  me  at  Paris,  and  Thornton  had  introduced  me 
to  Tyrrell  as  a  young  Englishman  of  great  wealth,  and  still 
greater  inexperience.  The  gambler  grasped  eagerly  at  an  ac- 
quaintance, which  Thornton  readily  persuaded  him  he  could 
turn  to  such  account  :  and  I  had  thus  every  facility  of  marking, 
day  by  day,  how  my  plot  thickened,  and  my  vengeance  hastened 
to  its  triumph. 

"  This  was  not  all.  I  said,  there  was  not  in  the  wide  world  a 
being  who  would  have  saved  Tyrrell  from  the  fate  he  deserved 
and  was  approaching.    I  forgot  there  was  one  who  still  clung  to 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  325 

him  with  affection,  and  for  whom  he  still  seemed  to  harbor  the 
better  and  purer  feelings  of  less  degraded  and  guilty  times. 
This  person  (you  will  guess  readily  it  was  a  woman)  I  made  it 
my  especial  business  and  care  to  wean  away  from  my  prey ;  I 
would  not  suffer  him  a  consolation  he  had  denied  to  me.  I 
used  all  the  arts  of  seduction  to  obtain  the  transfer  of  her  affec- 
tions. Whatever  promises  and  vows — whether  of  love  or 
wealth — could  effect,  were  tried ;  nor,  at  last,  without  success 
— /  triumphed.  The  woman  became  my  slave.  It  was  she 
who,  whenever  Tyrrell  faltered  in  his  course  to  destruction, 
combated  his  scruples,  and  urged  on  his  reluctance  ;  it  was  she 
who  informed  me  minutely  of  his  pitiful  finances,  and  assisted, 
to  her  utmost,  in  expediting  their  decay.  The  still  more  bitter 
treachery  of  deserting  him  in  his  veriest  want  I  reserved  till  the 
fittest  occasion,  and  contemplated  with  a  savage  delight. 

"  I  was  embarrassed  in  my  scheme  by  two  circumstances  : 
first,  Thornton's  acquaintance  with  you  ;  and,  secondly,  Tyrrell's 
receipt  (some  time  afterwards)  of  a  very  unexpected  sum  of  two 
hundred  pounds,  in  return  for  renouncing  all  further  -Bind  possible 
claim  on  the  purchasers  of  his  estate.  To  the  fonner,  so  far  as 
it  might  interfere  with  my  plans,  or  lead  to  my  detection,  you 
must  pardon  me  for  having  put  a  speedy  termination  ;  the  latter 
threw  me  into  great  consternation — for  Tyrrell's  first  idea  was 
to  renounce  the  gaming-table,  and  endeavor  to  live  upon  the 
trifling  pittance  he  had  acquired,  as  long  as  the  utmost  economy 
would  permit, 

"  This  idea,  Margaret,  the  woman  I  spoke  of,  according  to 
my  instructions,  so  artfully  and  successfully  combated,  that 
Tyrrell  yielded  to  his  natural  inclination,  and  returned  once 
more  to  the  infatuation  of  his  favorite  pursuit.  However,  I  had 
become  restlessly  impatient  for  the  conclusion  to  this  prefatory 
part  of  my  revenge,  and,  accordingly,  Thornton  and  myself 
arranged  that  Tyrrell  should  be  persuaded  by  the  former  to  risk 
all,  even  to  his  very  last  farthing,  in  a  private  game  with  me. 
Tyrrell,  who  believed  he  should  readily  recruit  himself  by  my 
unskilfulness  in  the  game,  fell  easily  into  the  snare  ;  and  on  the 
second  night  of  our  engagement,  he  not  only  had  lost  the  whole 
of  his  remaining  pittance,  but  had  signed  bonds  owning  to  a 
debt  of  far  greater  amount  than  he,  at  that  time,  could  ever 
even  have  dreamt  of  possessing. 

"  Flushed,  heated,  almost  maddened  with  my  triumph,  I 
yielded  to  the  exultation  of  the  moment.  I  did  not  know  you 
were  so  near — I  discovered  myself — you  remember  the  scene. 
I  went  joyfully  home  :  and  for  the  first   time  since  Gertrude's 


326  PELHAM;  OR, 

death,  1  was  happy  ;  but  there  I  imagined  my  vengeance  only 
would  begin  ;  I  revelled  in  the  burning  hope  of  marking  the 
hunger  and  extremity  that  must  ensue.  The  next  day,  when 
Tyrrell  turned  round,  in  his  despair,  for  one  momentary  word  of 
comfort  from  the  lips  to  which  he  believed,  in  the  fond  credulity 
of  his  heart,  falsehood  and  treachery  never  came,  his  last 
earthly  friend  taunted  and  deserted  him.  Mark  me,  Pelham— i 
I  was  by,  and  heard  her  ! 

"  But  here  my  power  of  retribution  was  to  close  :  from  the 
thirst  still  unslaked  and  unappeased,  the  cup  was  abruptly 
snatched.  Tyrrell  disappeared — no  one  knew  whither.  I  set 
Thornton's  inquiries  at  work.  A  week  afterwards  he  brought 
me  word  that  Tyrrell  had  died  in  extreme  want,  and  from  very 
despair.  Will  you  credit,  that  at  hearing  this  news,  my  first 
sensations  were  only  rage  and  disappointment  ?  True,  he  had 
died,  died  in  all  the  misery  my  heart  could  wish,  but  I  had  not 
seen  him  die  ;  and  the  death-bed  seemed  to  me  robbed  of  its 
bitterest  pang. 

"  I  know  not  to  this  day,  though  I  have  often  questioned  him, 
what  interest  Thornton  had  in  deceiving  me  by  this  tale  ;  for 
my  own  part,  I  believe  that  he  himself  was  deceived;*  certain 
it  is  (for  I  inquired),  that  a  person,  very  much  answering  to 
Tyrrell's  description,  had  perished  in  the  state  Thornton 
mentioned  ;  and  this  might  therefore,  in  all  probability,  have 
misled  him, 

"  I  left  Paris,  and  returned,  through  Normandy,  to  England 
(where  I  remained  some  weeks)  ;  there  we  again  met :  but  I 
think  we  did  7iot  meet  till  I  had  been  persecuted  by  the  inso- 
lence and  importunity  of  Thornton.  The  tools  of  our  passions 
cut  both  ways ;  like  the  monarch,  who  employed  strange  beasts 
in  his  army,  we  find  our  treacherous  allies  less  destructive  to 
others  than  ourselves.  But  I  was  not  of  a  temper  to  brook  the 
tauntings,  or  the  encroachment  of  my  own  creature  ;  it  had 
been  with  but  an  ill  giacc  that  I  had  endured  his  familiarity, 
when  I  absolutely  required  his  services,  much  less  could  I  suffer 
his  intrusion  when  those  services — services  not  of  love,  but  hire 
— were  no  longer  necessary.  Thornton,  like  all  persons  of  his 
stamp,  has  a  low  pride,  which  I  was  constantly  offending.  He 
had  mixed  with  men,  more  than  my  equals  in  rank,  on  a 
familiar  footing,  and  he  could  ill  brook  the  hauteur  with  which 
my  disgust  at  his  character  absolutely  constrained  me  to  treat 
him.  It  is  true,  that  the  profuseness  of  my  liberality  was  such, 
that  the  mean  wretch  stomached  affronts  for  which  he  was  so 

♦  It  seems  (from  subsequent  investigation)  that  this  was  reaily  the  case. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  327 

largely  paid  ;  but,  with  the  cunning  and  malicious  spite  natural 
to  him,  he  knew  well  how  to  repay  them  in  kind.  While  he  as- 
sisted, he  affected  to  ridicule,  my  revenge  ;  and  though  he  soon 
saw  that  he  durst  not,  for  his  very  life,  breathe  a  syllable  openly 
against  Gertrude,  or  her  memory,  yet  he  contrived,  by  genera] 
remarks,  and  covert  insinuations,  to  gall  me  to  the  very  quick, 
and  in  the  very  tenderest  point.  Thus  a  deep  and  cordial  an- 
tipathy to  each  other  arose,  and  grew,  and  strengthened,  till  I 
believe,  like  the  fiends  in  hell,  our  mutual  hatred  became  our 
common  punishment. 

"  No  sooner  had  I  returned  to  England,  than  I  found  him 
here,  awaiting  my  arrival.  He  favored  me  with  frequent  visits 
and  requests  for  money.  Although  not  possessed  of  any  secret 
really  important  affecting  my  character,  he  knew  well,  that  he 
was  possessed  of  one  important  to  my  quiet ;  and  he  availed 
himself  to  the  utmost  of  my  strong  and  deep  aversion  even  to 
the  most  delicate  recurrence  to  my  love  to  Gertrude,  and  its  un- 
hallowed and  disastrous  termination.  At  length,  however,  he 
wearied  me  :  I  found  that  he  was  sinking  into  the  very  dregs 
and  refuse  of  society,  and  I  could  not  longer  brook  the  idea  of 
enduring  his  familiarity  and  feeding  his  vices. 

"  I  pass  over  any  detail  of  my  own  feelings,  as  well  as  my 
ouhvard  and  worldly  history.  Over  my  mind,  a  great  change 
had  passed ;  I  was  no  longer  torn  by  violent  and  contending 
passions ;  upon  the  tumultuous  sea  a  dead  and  heavy  torpor 
had  fallen  ;  the  very  winds,  necessary  for  health,  had  ceased  • 

'  I  slept  on  the  abyss  without  a  surge.' 

One  violent  and  engrossing  passion  is  among  the  worst  all 
immoralities,  for  it  leaves  the  mind  too  stagnant  and  exhausted 
for  those  activities  and  energies  which  constitute  our  real  duties. 
However,  now  that  the  tyrant  feeling  of  my  mind  was  removed, 
I  endeavored  to  shake  off  the  apathy  it  had  produced,  and  return 
to  the  various  occupations  and  business  of  life.  Whatever 
could  divert  me  from  my  own  dark  memories,  or  give  a  moment- 
ary motion  to  the  stagnation  of  my  mind,  I  grasped  at  with 
the  fondness  and  eagerness  of  a  child.  Thus,  you  found  me 
surrounding  myself  with  luxuries  which  palled  upon  my  taste 
the  instant  that  their  novelty  had  passed  :  now,  for  the  vanity  of 
literary  fame  ;  now,  for  the  emptier  baubles  which  riches  could 
procure.  At  one  time  I  shrouded  myself  in  my  closet,  and 
brooded  over  the  dogmas  of  the  learned,  and  the  errors  of  the 
wise  ;  at  another,  I  plunged  into  the  more  engrossing  and  active 


32S  PELHAM ;  OR, 

pursuits  of  the  living  crowd  which  rolled  around  me, — and  flat- 
tered my  heart,  that  amidst  the  applause  of  senators,  and  the 
whirlpool  of  affairs,  I  could  lull  to  rest  the  voices  of  the  past, 
and  the  spectre  of  the  dead. 

"  Whether  these  hopes  were  effectual,  and  the  struggle  not  in 
vain,  this  haggard  and  wasting  form,  drooping  day  by  day  into 
the  grave,  can  declare  ;  but  I  said  I  would  not  dwell  long  upon 
this  part  of  my  history,  nor  is  it  necessary.  Of  one  thing  only, 
not  connected  with  the  main  part  of  my  confessions,  it  is  right 
for  the  sake  of  one  tender  and  guiltless  being,  that  I  should 
speak. 

"  In  the  cold  and  friendless  world  with  which  I  mixed,  there 
was  a  heart  which  had  years  ago  given  itself  wholly  up  to  me. 
At  that  time  I  was  ignorant  of  the  gift  I  so  little  deserved,  or 
(for  it  was  before  I  knew  Gertrude)  I  might  have  returned  it, 
and  been  saved  years  of  crime  and  anguish.  Since  then,  the 
person  I  allude  to  had  married,  and,  by  the  death  of  her  husband, 
was  once  more  free.  Intimate  with  my  family,  and  more  es- 
pecially with  my  sister,  she  now  met  me  constantly  ;  her  com- 
passion for  the  change  she  perceived  in  me,  both  in  mind  and 
person,  was  stronger  than  even  her  reserve,  and  this  is  the  only 
reason  why  I  speak  of  an  attachment  which  ought  otherwise  to 
be  concealed  :  I  believe  that  you  already  understand  to  whom  I 
allude,  and  since  you  have  discovered  her  weakness,  it  is  right 
that  you  should  know  also  her  virtue  ;  it  is  right  that  you  should 
learn,  that  it  was  not  in  her  the  fantasy,  or  passion  of  a  moment, 
but  a  long  and  secreted  love  ;  that  you  should  learn,  that  it  was 
her  pity,  and  no  unfeminine  disregard  to  opinion,  which  be- 
trayed her  into  imprudence,  and  that  she  is,  at  this  moment,  in- 
nocent of  everything,  but  the  folly  of  loving  me. 

"  I  pass  on  to  the  time  when  I  discovered  that  I  had  been, 
eitherintentionally  or  unconsciously,  deceived,  and  that  my  en- 
emy yet  lived  !  lived  in  honor,  prosperity,  and  the  world's 
blessings.  This  information  was  like  removing  a  barrier  from 
a  stream  hitherto  pent  into  quiet  and  restraint.  All  the  stormy 
thoughts,  feelings,  and  passions,  so  long  at  rest,  rushed  again 
into  a  t£rrible  and  tumultuous  action.  The  newly-formed 
stratum  of  my  mind  was  swept  away  ;  everything  seemed  a 
wreck,  a  chaos,  a  convulsion  of  jarring  elements  :  but  this  is  a 
trite  and  tame  description  of  my  feelings  ;  words  would  be  but 
commonplace  to  express  the  revulsion  which  I  experienced  ! 
yet,  amidst  all,  there  was  one  paramount  and  presiding  thought, 
to  which  the  rest  were  as  atoms  in  the  heap — the  awakened 
thought  of  vengeance  ! — but  how  was  it  to  be  gratified  ? 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  329 

"  Placed  as  Tyrrell  now  was  in  the  scale  of  society,  every 
method  of  retribution  but  the  one  formerly  rejected,  seemed  at 
an  end.  To  that  one,  therefore,  weak  and  merciful  as  it  ap- 
peared to  me,  I  resorted — you  took  my  challenge  to  Tyrrell — 
you  remember  his  behavior — Conscience  doth  indeed  make 
cowards  of  us  all  !  The  letter  inclosed  to  me  in  his  to  you,  con- 
tained only  the  commonplace  argument  urged  so  often  by  those 
who  have  injured  us  :  viz.,  the  reluctance  at  attempting  our  life 
after  having  ruined  our  happiness.  When  I  found  that  he  had 
left  London,  my  rage  knew  no  bounds  ;  I  was  absolutely  frantic 
with  indignation  ;  the  earth  reeled  before  my  eyes  ;  I  was  almost 
suffocated  by  the  violence — the  whirlpool — of  my  emotions.  I 
gave  myself  no  time  to  think, — I  left  town  in  pursuit  of  my  foe, 

"  I  found  that— still  addicted,  though,  I  believe,  not  so  madly 
as  before,  to  his  old  amusements — he  was  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Newmarket,  awaiting  the  races,  shortly  to  ensue.  No  sooner 
did  1  find  his  address,  than  I  wrote  him  another  challenge,  still 
more  forcibly  and  insultingly  worded  than  the  one  you  took. 
In  this  I  said  that  his  refusal  was  of  no  avail;  that  I  had  sworn 
that  my  vengeance  should  overtake  him  ;  and  that  sooner  or 
later,  in  the  face  of  heaven  and  despite  of  hell,  my  oath  should 
be  fulfilled.  Remember  those  words,  Pelham  :  I  shall  refer  to 
them  hereafter. 

"Tyrrell's  reply  was  short  and  contemptuous;  he  affected  to 
treat  me  as  a  madman.  Perhaps  (and  I  confess  that  that  inco- 
herence of  my  letter  authorized  such  suspicion)  he  believed  I 
really  was  one.  He  concluded  by  saying,  that  if  he  received 
more  of  my  letters,  he  should  shelter  himself  from  my  aggres- 
sions by  the  protection  of  the  law. 

"  On  receiving  this  reply,  a  stern,  sullen,  iron  spirit  entered 
into  my  bosom.  I  betrayed  no  external  mark  of  passion  ;  I  sat 
down  in  silence — I  placed  the  letter  and  Gertrude's  picture 
before  me.  There,  still  and  motionless,  I  remained  for  hours. 
I  remember  well,  I  was  awakened  from  my  gloomy  reverie  by 
the  clock,  as  it  struck  the  first  hour  of  the  morning.  At  that 
lone  and  ominous  sound,  the  associations  of  romance  and  dread 
which  the  fables  of  our  childhood  connect  with  it,  rushed  coldly 
and  fearfully  into  my  mind  ;  the  damp  dews  broke  out  upon  my 
forehead,  and  the  blood  curdled  in  my  limbs.  In  that  moment 
I  knelt  down  and  vowed  a  frantic  and  deadly  oath — the  words 
of  which  I  would  not  now  dare  to  repeat — that  before  three 
days  expired,  hell  should  no  longer  be  cheated  of  its  prey.  I 
rose — I  Hung  myself  on  my  bed,  and  slept. 

"  The  next  day  I  left  my  abode.     I  purchased  a  strong  and 


330  PELHAM;  OR, 

swift  horse,  and,  disguising  myself  from  head  to  foot  in  a  long 
horseman's  clock,  I  set  off  alone,  locking  in  my  heart  the  calm 
and  cold  conviction,  that  my  oath  should  be  kept.  I  placed, 
concealed  in  my  dress,  two  pistols ;  my  intention  was  to  follow 
Tyrrell  wherever  he  went,  till  we  could  find  ourselves  alone,  and 
without  the  chance  of  intrusion.  It  was  then  my  determination 
to/orce  him  into  a  contest,  and  that  no  trembling  of  the  hand, 
no  error  of  the  swimming  sight,  mighi  betray  my  purpose,  to 
place  us  foot  to  foot,  and  the  mouth  of  each  pistol  almost  to 
the  very  temple  of  each  antagonist.  Nor  was  I  deterred  for 
a  moment  from  this  resolution  by  the  knowledge  that  my  own 
death  must  be  as  certain  as  my  victim's.  On  the  contrary,  I 
looked  forward  to  dying  thus,  and  so  baffling  the  more  lingering, 
but  not  less  sure,  disease,  which  was  daily  wasting  me  away, 
with  the  same  fierce,  yet  not  unquiet  delight  with  which  men 
have  rushed  into  battle,  and  sought  out  a  death  less  bitter  to 
them  than  life. 

"  For  two  days,  though  I  each  day  saw  Tyrrell,  fate  threw 
into  my  way  no  opportunity  of  executing  my  design.  The 
morning  of  the  third  came — Tyrrell  was  on  the  race  ground : 
sure  that  he  would  remain  there  for  some  hours,  I  put  up  my 
wearied  horse  in  the  town,  and  seating  myself  in  an  obscure 
corner  of  the  course,  was  contented  with  watching,  as  the  ser- 
pent does  his  victim,  the  distant  motions  of  my  enemy.  Perhaps 
you  can  recollect  passing  a  man  seated  on  the  ground,  and 
robed  in  a  horseman's  cloak.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  it  was 
I  whom  you  passed  and  accosted.  I  saw  you  ride  by  me  ;  but 
the  moment  you  were  gone,  I  forgot  the  occurrence,  I  looked 
upon  the  rolling  and  distant  crowd,  as  a  child  views  the  figures 
of  the  phantasmagoria,  scarcely  knowing  if  my  eyes  deceived 
me,  feeling  impressed  with  some  stupefying  and  ghastly  sensa- 
tion of  dread,  and  cherishing  the  conviction  that  my  life  was 
not  as  the  life  of  the  creatures  that  passed  before  me. 

"  The  day  waned — I  went  back  for  my  horse — I  returned  to 
the  course,  and,  keeping  at  a  distance  as  little  suspicious  as 
possible,  followed  the  motions  of  Tyrrell.  He  went  back  to 
the  town — rested  there — repaired  to  a  gaming-table — stayed  at 
it  a  short  time — returned  to  his  inn,  and  ordered  his  horse. 

"  In  all  all  these  motions  I  followed  the  object  of  my  pursuit; 
and  my  heart  bounded  with  joy  when  I,  at  last,  saw  him  set 
out  alone,  and  in  the  advancing  twilight.  I  followed  him  till  he 
left  the  main  road.  Now,  I  thought,  was  my  time.  I  redoubled 
my  pace,  and  had  nearly  reached  him,  whem  some  horsemen 
appearing,  constrained  me  again  to  slacken  my  pace.     Various 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  331 

other  similar  interruptions  occurred  to  delay  my  plot.  At 
length  all  was  undisturbed.  I  spurred  my  horse,  and  was 
nearly  on  the  heels  of  my  enemy,  when  I  perceived  him  join 
another  man — this  \^2a  you — I  clenched  my  teeth,  and  drew 
my  breath,  as  I  once  more  retreated  to  a  distance.  In  a  short 
time  two  men  passed  me,  and  I  found,  that,  owing  to  some  ac- 
cident on  the  road,  they  stopped  to  assist  you.  It  appears  by 
your  evidence  on  a  subsequent  event,  that  these  men  were 
Thornton  and  his  friend  Dawson  :  at  the  time,  they  passed  too 
rapidly,  and  I  was  too  much  occupied  in  my  own  dark  thoughts, 
to  observe  them  :  still  I  kept  up  to  you  and  Tyrrell,  sometimes 
catching  the  outline  of  your  figures  through  the  moonlight,  at 
others,  (with  the  acute  sense  of  anxiety,)  only  just  distinguishing 
the  clang  of  your  horses'  hoofs  on  the  stony  ground.  At  last, 
a  heavy  shower  came  on ;  imagine  my  joy,  when  Tyrrell  left 
you  and  rode  off  alone  ! 

"  I  passed  you,  and  followed  my  enemy  as  fast  as  my  horse 
would  permit ;  but  it  was  not  equal  to  Tyrrell's,  which  was 
almost  at  its  full  speed.  How^ever,  I  came,  at  last,  to  a  very 
steep,  and  almost  precipitous,  descent.  I  was  forced  to  ride 
slowly  and  cautiously ;  that,  however,  I  the  less  regarded,  from 
my  conviction  that  Tyrrell  must  be  obliged  to  use  the  same  pre- 
caution. My  hand  was  on  my  pistol  with  the  grasp  of  pre- 
meditated revenge,  when  a  shrill,  sharp  solitary  cry  broke  on 
my  ear. 

"  No  sound  followed — all  was  silence.  I  was  just  approach- 
ing towards  the  close  of  the  descent,  when  a  horse  without  its 
rider  passed  me.  The  shower  had  ceased,  and  the  moon  broken 
from  the  cloud  some  minutes  before;  by  its  light,  I  recognized 
the  horse  rode  by  Tyrrell ;  perhaps,  I  thought,  it  has  thrown 
its  master,  and  my  victim  will  now  be  utterly  in  my  power,  I 
pushed  hastily  forward  in  spite  of  the  hill,  not  yet  wholly  passed. 
I  came  to  a  spot  of  singular  desolation — it  was  a  broad  patch 
of  waste  land,  a  pool  of  water  was  on  the  right,  and  a  remark- 
able and  withered  tree  hung  over  it.  I  looked  round  but  saw 
nothing  of  life  stirring.  A  dark  and  imperfectly  developed 
object  lay  by  the  side  of  the  pond — I  pressed  forward — merci- 
ful God  !  my  enemy  had  escaped  my  hand,  and  lay  in  the  still- 
ness of  death  before  me  !  " 

"  What  !  "  I  exclaimed,  interrupting  Cilanville,  for  I  could  con- 
tain myself  no  longer,  "  it  was  not  hy  you  then  that  Tyrrell  fell  ? " 
With  these  words,  I  grasped  his  hand  ;  and,  excited  as  I  had 
been  by  my  painful  and  wrought-up  interest  in  his  recital,  I  burst 


332  PELHAM;  OR, 

into  tears  of  gratitude  and  joy.  Reginald  Glanville  was  inno- 
cent— Ellen  was  not  the  sister  of  an  assassin ! 

After  a  short  pause,  Glanville  continued — 

"I  gazed  upon  the  upward  and  distorted  face,  in  a  deep  and 
sickening  silence  ;  an  awe,  dark  and  undefined,  crept  over  my 
heart ;  I  stood  beneath  the  solemn  and  sacred  heavens,  and  felt 
that  the  hand  of  God  was  upon  me — that  a  mysterious  and  fear- 
ful edict  had  gone  forth — that  my  headlong  and  unholy  wrath 
had,  in  the  very  midst  of  its  fury,  been  checked,  as  if  but  the  idle 
anger  of  a  child — that  the  plan  I  had  laid  in  the  foolish  wisdom 
of  my  heart,  had  been  traced,  step  by  step,  by  an  all-seeing  eye, 
and  baffled  in  the  moment  of  its  fancied  success,  by  an  inscru- 
table and  awful  doom.  I  had  wished  the  death  of  my  enemy — 
lo  !  my  wish  was  accomplished — how,  I  neither  knew  nor  guessed 
— there,  a  still  and  senseless  clod  of  earth,  without  power  of  of- 
fence or  injury  he  lay  beneath  my  feet — it  seemed  as  if,  in  the 
moment  of  my  uplifted  arm,  the  Divine  avenger  had  asserted  His 
prerogative — as  if  the  angel  which  had  smitten  the  Assyrian,  had 
again  swept  forth,  though  against  a  meaner  victim — and,  while 
he  punished  the  guilt  of  a  human  criminal,  had  set  an  eternal 
barrier  to  the  vengeance  of  a  human  foe  ! 

"  I  dismounted  from  my  horse,  and  bent  over  the  murdered 
man.  I  drew  from  my  bosom  the  miniature,  which  never  forsook 
me,  and  bathed  the  lifeless  resemblance  of  Gertrude  in  the  blood 
of  her  betrayer.  Scarcely  had  I  done  so,  before  my  ear  caught 
the  sounds  of  steps  ;  hastily  I  thrust,  as  I  thought,  the  miniature 
in  my  bosom,  remounted,  and  rode  hurriedly  away.  At  that 
hour,  and  for  many  which  succeeded  to  it,  I  believe  that  all  sense 
was  suspended.  I  was  like  a  man  haunted  by  a  dream,  and 
wandering  under  its  influence  ;  or  as  one  whom  a  spectre  pur- 
sues, and  for  whose  eye,  the  breathing  and  busy  world  is  but  as 
a  land  of  unreal  forms  and  fiitting  shadows,  teeming  with  the 
monsters  of  darkness,  and  the  terrors  of  the  tomb. 

"  It  was  not  till  the  next  day  that  I  missed  the  picture.  I  re- 
turned to  the  spot — searched  it  carefully,  but  in  vain — the  mini- 
ature could  not  be  found ;  I  returned  to  town,  and  shortly  after- 
wards the  newspapers  informed  me  of  what  had  subsequently  oc- 
curred. I  saw,  with  dismay,  that  all  appearances  pointed  to  me 
as  the  criminal,  and  that  the  officers  of  justice  were  at  that  mo- 
ment tracing  the  clue  which  my  cloak,  and  the  color  of  my  horse, 
afforded  them.  My  mysterious  pursuit  of  Tyrrell  :  the  disguise 
I  had  assumed  ;  the  circumstance  of  my  passing  you  on  the  road, 
and  of  my  flight  when  you  approached,  all  spoke  volumes 
against  me.     A  stronger  evidence  yet  remained,  and  it  was  re- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  ^^t, 

served  for  Thornton  to  indicate  it — at  this  moment  my  life  is  in 
his  hands.  Shortly  after  my  return  to  town,  he  forced  his  way 
into  my  room,  shut  the  door — bolted  it — and,  the  moment  we 
were  alone,  said,  with  a  savage  and  fiendish  grin  of  exultation 
and  defiance, — '  Sir  Reginald  Glanville,  you  have  many  a  time 
and  oft  insulted  me  with  your  pride,  and  more  with  your  gifts ; 
now  it  is  my  time  to  insult  and  triumph  over  you — know  that  one 
word  of  mine  could  sentence  you  to  the  gibbet,' 

"  He  then  minutely  summed  up  the  evidence  against  me,  and 
drew  from  his  pocket  the  threatening  letter  I  had  last  written  to 
Tyrrell.  You  remember  that  therein  I  said  my  vengeance  was 
sworn  against  him,  and  that,  sooner  or  later,  it  should  overtake 
him.  'Couple,'  said  Thornton,  coldly,  as  he  replaced  the  letter 
in  his  pocket — 'couple  these  words  with  the  evidence  already 
against  you,  and  I  would  not  buy  your  life  at  a  farthing's  value.' 

"  How  Thornton  came  by  this  paper,  so  important  to  my  safety, 
I  know  not :  but  when  he  read  it,  I  was  startled  by  the  clanger  it 
brought  upon  me  :  one  glance  sufficed  to  show  me  that  I  was  ut- 
terly at  the  mercy  of  the  villain  who  stood  before  me  :  he  saw 
and  enjoyed  my  struggles. 

"  'Now,'  said  he,  '  we  know  each  other  ; — at  present  I  want  a 
thousand  pounds  ;  you  will  not  refuse  it  me,  I  am  sure  ;  when 
it  is  gone  I  shall  call  again ;  till  then  you  can  do  without  me. 
I  flung  him  a  cheque  for  the  money,  and  he  departed. 

"  You  may  conceive  t"he  mortification  I  endured  in  this  sacri- 
fice of  pride  to  prudence  :  but  those  were  no  ordinary  motives 
which  induced  me  to  submit  to  it.  Fast  approaching  to  the 
grave,  it  mattered  to  me  but  little  whether  a  violent  death  should 
shorten  a  life  to  which  a  limit  was  already  set,  and  which  I  was 
far  from  being  anxious  to  retain  :  but  I  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  bringing  upon  my  mother  and  my  sister,  the  wretched- 
ness and  shame  which  the  mere  suspicion  of  a  crime  so  enor- 
mous, would  occasion  them  ;  and  when  my  eye  caught  all  the  cir- 
cumstances arrayed  against  me,  my  pride  seemed  to  suffer  a  less 
mortification  even  in  the  course  I  adopted  than  in  the  thought  of 
the  felon's  gaol,  and  the  criminal's  trial ;  the  hoots  and  execra- 
tion of  the  mob,  and  the  death  and  ignominious  remembrance 
of  the  murderer. 

"  Stronger  than  either  of  these  motives,  was  my  shrinking  and 
loathing  aversion  to  whatever  seemed  at  all  likely  to  unrip  the 
secret  history  of  the  past.  I  sickened  at  the  thought  of  Gertrude's 
name  and  fate  being  bared  to  the  vulgar  eye,  and  exposed  to  the 
comment,  the  strictures,  the  ridicule  of  the  gaping  and  curious 
public.     It  seemed  to  me,  therefore,  but  a  very  poor  exertion  of 


334  PELHAM  ;  OR, 

philosophy  to  conquer  my  feelings  of  humiliation  at  Thoi  nton's 
insolence  and  triumph,  and  to  console  myself  with  the  reflection, 
that  a  few  months  must  rid  me  alike  of  his  exactions  and  my  life, 

"  But,  of  late,  Thornton's  persecutions  and  demands  have  risen 
to  such  a  height,  I  have  been  scarcely  able  to  restrain  my  indig- 
nation and  control  myself  into  compliance.  The  struggle  is  too 
powerful  for  my  frame ;  it  is  rapidly  bringing  on  the  fiercest  and 
last  contest  I  shall  suffer,  before  '  the  wicked  shall  cease  from 
troubling,  and  the  weary  be  at  rest.'  Some  days  since,  I  came 
to  a  resolution,  which  I  am  now  about  to  execute  ;  it  is  to  leave 
this  country  and  take  refuge  on  the  continent.  There  I  shall 
screen  myself  from  Thornton's  pursuit,  and  the  danger  which  it 
entails  upon  me  ;  and  there,  unknown  and  undisturbed,  I  shall 
await  the  termination  of  my  disease. 

But  two  duties  remained  to  me  to  fulfil  before  I  departed ;  I 
have  now  discharged  them  both.  One  was  due  to  the  warm- 
hearted and  noble  being  who  honored  me  with  her  interest  and 
affection — the  other  to  you.  I  went  yesterday  to  the  former  ;  ] 
sketched  the  outline  of  that  history  which  I  have  detailed  to 
you.  I  showed  her  the  waste  to  my  barren  heart,  and  spoke  to 
her  of  the  disease  which  was  wearing  me  away.  How  beautiful 
is  the  love  of  woman !  She  would  have  followed  me  over  the 
■world — received  my  last  sigh,  and  seen  me  to  the  rest  I  shall 
find,  at  length  ;  and  this  without  a  hope,  or  thought  of  recom- 
pense, even  from  the  worthlessness  of  my  love. 

"  But,  enough  ! — of  her  my  farewell  has  been  taken.  Youi 
suspicions  I  have  seen  and  forgiven — for  they  were  natural  ;  it 
was  due  to  me  to  remove  them  :  the  pressure  of  your  hand  tells 
me,  that  I  have  done  so  :  but  I  had  another  reason  for  my  con 
fessions.  I  have  M'orn  away  the  romance  of  my  heart,  and  1 
have  now  no  indulgence  for  the  little  delicacies  and  petty  scru 
pies  which  often  stand  in  the  way  of  our  real  happiness.  I  havt 
marked  your  former  addresses  to  Ellen,  and,  I  confess,  with 
great  joy  ;  for  I  know,  amidst  all  your  worldly  ambition,  and 
the  eiTcrusted  artificiality  of  your  exterior,  how  warm  and  gener- 
ous is  your  real  heart — how  noble  and  intellectual  is  your  real 
mind  :  and  were  my  sister  tenfold  more  perfect  than  I  believe 
her,  I  do  not  desire  to  find  on  earth  one  more  deserving  of  her  than 
yourself.  I  have  remarked  your  late  estrangement  from  Ellen ; 
and,  while  I  guessed,  I  felt  that,  however  painful  to  me,  I  ought 
to  remove,  the  cause  :  she  loves  you — though,  perhaps,  you  know 
it  not — much  and  truly ;  and  since  my  earlier  life  has  been 
passed  in  a  selfish  inactivity,  I  would  fain  let  it  close  with  the 
reflection  of  having  served  the  beings  whom  I  prize  so  dearly, 


AD  TEXTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN. 


335 


and    the  hope    that   their   happiness    will  commence  with   my 
death. 

"  And  now,  Pelham,  I  have  done ;  I  am  weak  and  exhausted, 
and  cannot  bear  more — even  of  your  society,  now.  Think  over 
what  I  have  last  said,  and  let  me  see  you  again  to-morrow  ;  on 
the  day  after,  I  leave  England  forever." 


CHAPTER  LXXVI. 


But  wilt  thou  accept  not 
The  worship  the  heart  lifts  above, 

And  the  Heavens  reject  not. 
The  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star, 

Of  the  night  for  the  morrow, 
The  devotion  to  something  afar 

From  the  sphere  of  our  sorrow  ?— P.  B.  Shelley. 

It  was  not  with  a  light  heart — for  I  loved  Glanville  too  well, 
not  to  be  powerfully  affected  by  his  awful  history — but  with  a 
chastised  and  sober  joy,  that  I  now  behold  my  friend  innocent 
of  the  guilt  of  which  my  suspicions  had  accused  him,  while  the 
only  obstacle  to  my  marriage  with  his  sister  was  removed.  True 
it  was  that  the  sword  yet  hung  over  his  head,  and  that  while  he 
lived,  there  could  be  no  rational  assurance  of  his  safety  from  the 
disgrace  and  death  of  the  felon.  In  the  world's  eye,  therefore, 
the  barrier  to  my  union  with  Ellen  would  have  been  far  from  be^' 
ing  wholly  removed  ;  but  at  that  moment,  my  disappointments  had 
disgusted  me  with  the  world,  and  I  turned  with  a  double  yearn- 
ing of  heart  to  her  whose  pure  and  holy  love  could  be  at  once 
my  recompense  and  retreat. 

Nor  was  this  selfish  consideration  my  only  motive  in  the  con- 
duct I  was  resolved  to  adopt ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  scarcely 
more  prominent  in  my  mind,  than  those  derived  from  giving  to 
a  friend  who  was  now  dearer  to  me  than  ever,  his  only  consola- 
tion on  this  earth,  and  to  Ellen  the  safest  protection,  in  case  of 
any  danger  to  her  brother.  With  these,  it  is  true,  were  mingled 
feelings  which,  in  happier  circumstances,  might  have  been  those 
of  transport  at  a  bright  and  successful  termination  to  a  deep  and 
devoted  love  ;  but  these  I  had,  while  Glanville's  very  life  was 
so  doubtful,  little  right  to  indulge,  and  I  checked  them  as  soon  as 
they  arose. 

After  a  sleepless  night  I  repaired  to  Ladv  Glanville's  house. 


336  PELHAM  ;  OR, 

It  was  long  since  I  had  3een  there,  and  the  servant  who  admit- 
ted me  seemed  somewhat  surprised  at  the  earliness  of  my  visit. 
I  desired  to  see  the  mother,  and  waited  in  the  parlor  till  she 
came.  I  made  but  a'scanty  exordium  to  my  speech.  In  very 
few  words  I  expressed  my  love  to  Ellen,  and  besought  her  me- 
diation in  my  behalf  ;  nor  did  I  think  it  would  be  a  slight  consid- 
eration in  my  favor,  with  the  fond  mother,  to  mention  Glanville's 
approbation  of  my  suit. 

"  Ellen  is  up  stairs  in  the  drawing-room,"  said  Lady  Glanviile. 
"  I  will  go  and  prepare  her  to  receive  you — if  you  have  her  con- 
sent, you  have  mine." 

"  Will  you  suffer  me  then,"  said  I,  "  to  forestall  you  ?  Forgive 
my  impatience,  and  let  me  see  her  before  you  do." 

Lady  Glanviile  was  a  woman  of  the  good  old  school,  and  stood 
somewhat  upon  forms  and  ceremonies.  I  did  not,  therefore, 
await  the  answer,  which  I  foresaw  might  not  be  favorable  to  my 
success,  but  with  my  customary  assurance,  left  the  room,  and 
hastened  up  stairs.  I  entered  the  drawing-room,  and  shut  the 
door.  Ellen  was  at  the  far  end ;  and  as  I  entered  with  a  light 
step,  she  did  not  perceive  me  till  I  was  close  by. 

She  started  when  she  saw  me  ;  and  her  cheek,  before  very 
pale,  deepened  into  crimson.  "  Good  Heavens  !  is  it  you ! " 
she  said  falteringly.  "  I — I  thought — but — but  excuse  me  for 
an  instant,  I  will  call  my  mother." 

"  Stay  for  one  instant,  I  beseech  you — it  is  from  your  mother 
that  I  come — she  has  referred  me  to  you."  And  with  a  trem- 
bling and  hurried  voice,  for  all  my  usual  boldness  forsook  me, 
I  poured  forth,  in  rapid  and  burning  words,  the  history  of  my 
secret  and  hoarded  love — its  doubts,  fears,  and  hopes. 

Ellen  sank  back  on  her  chair,  overpowered  and  silenced  by 
her  feelings,  and  tlie  vehemence  of  my  own.  I  knelt,  and  took 
her  hand ;  I  covered  it  with  my  kisses — it  was  not  withdrawn 
from  them.  I  raised  my  eyes,  and  beheld  in  hers  all  that  my 
heart  had  hoped,  but  did  not  dare  to  portray. 

"You — you,"  said  she — when  at  last  she  found  words — "I 
imagined  that  you  only  thought  of  ambition  and  the  world — I 
could  not  have  dreamt  of  this."  She  ceased,  blushing  and  em- 
barrassed. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  I,  "  that  you  had  a  right  to  think  so,  for,  till 
this  moment,  I  have  never  opened  to  you  even  a  glimpse  of  my 
veiled  heart,  and  its  secret  and  wild  desires  ;  but  do  you  think 
that  my  love  was  the  less  a  treasure,  because  it  was  hidden  ?  or 
the  less  deep  because  it  was  cherished  at  the  bottom  of  my  soul  ? 
No — no ;  believe  me,  that  love  was  not  to  be  mingled  with  the 


b 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  337 

ordinary  objects  of  life — it  was  too  pure  to  be  profane  by  the 
levities  and  follies  which  are  all  of  my  nature  that  1  have  per- 
mitted myself  to  develope  to  the  world.  Do  not  imagine,  that, 
because  I  have  seemed  an  idler  with  the  idle — selfish  with  the 
interested — and  cold,  and  vain,  and  frivolous,  with  those  to 
whom  such  qualities  were  both  a  passport  and  a  virtue ;  do  not 
imagine  that  I  have  concealed  within  me  nothing  more  worthy 
of  you  and  of  myself ;  my  very  love  for  you  shows  that  I  am 
wiser  and  better  than  I  have  seemed.  Speak  to  me,  Ellen — ■ 
may  I  call  you  by  that  name — one  word — one  syllable  !  speak 
to  ine,  and  tell  me  that  you  have  read  my  heart,  and  that  you 
will  not  reject  it !  " 

There  came  no  answer  from  those  dear  lips  ;  but  their  soft  and 
tender  smile  told  me  that  I  might  hope.  That  hour  I  still  recall 
and  bless !  that  hour  was  the  happiest  of  my  life. 


CHAPTER  LXXVII. 

A  thousand  crowns,  or  else  lay  down  your  head. 

2d  Part  of  Henry  VI. 

From  Ellen,  I  hastened  to  the  house  of  Sir  Reginald.  The 
hall  was  in  all  the  confusion  of  approaching  departure.  I 
sprang  over  the  paraphernalia  of  books  and  boxes  which  ob- 
structed my  way,  and  bounded  up  the  stairs.  Glanville  was,  as 
usual,  alone  :  his  countenance  was  less  pale  than  it  had  been 
lately,  and  when  I  saw  it  brighten  as  I  approached,  I  hoped,  in 
the  new  happiness  of  my  heart,  that  he  might  bafitle  both  his 
enemy  and  his  disease. 

I  told  him  all  that  had  just  occurred  between  Ellen  and  myself. 
"And  now,"  said  I,  as  I  clasped  his  hand,  "I  have  a  proposal 
to  make,  to  which  you  must  accede  :  let  me  accompany  you 
abroad  ;  I  will  go  with  you  to  whatever  corner  of  the  world  you 
may  select.  We  will  plan  together  every  possible  method  of 
concealing  our  retreat.  Upon  the  past  I  will  never  speak  to  you. 
In  your  hours  of  solitude  I  will  never  disturb  you  by  an  unwel- 
come and  ill-timed  .sympathy.  I  will  tend  upon  you,  watch  over 
you,  bear  with  you,  with  more  than  ihe  love  and  tenderness  of  a 
brother.  V'ou  shall  see  me  only  when  you  wish  it.  Your  loneli- 
ness shall  never  be  invaded.  When  you  get  better,  as  I  presage 
you  will,  I  will  leave  you  to  come  back  to  England,  and  provide 
for  the  worst,  by  ensuring  your  sister  a  protector.  I  will  then 
22 


338  PELHAM;  OK, 

return  to  you  alone,  that  your  seclusion  may  not  be  endangered 
by  the  knowledge,  even  of  Ellen,  and  you  shall  have  me  by  your 
side  till— till— " 

''The  last !  "  interrupted  Glanville.  "  Too — too  generous  Pel- 
ham,  I  feel — these  tears  (the  first  I  have  shed  for  a  long,  long 
time)  tell  you,  that  I  feel  to  the  heart — your  friendship  and 
disinterested  attachment;  but  in  the  moment  your  love  for  Ellen 
has  become  successful,  I  will  not  tear  you  from  its  enjoyment. 
Believe  me,  all  that  I  could  derive  from  your  society,  could  not 
afford  me  half  the  happiness  I  should  have  in  knowing  that  you 
and  Ellen  were  blest  in  each  other.  No — no,  my  solitude  will, 
at  that  reflection,  be  deprived  of  its  sting.  You  shall  hear  from 
me  once  again ;  my  letter  shall  contain  a  request,  and  your  ex- 
ecuting that  last  favor  must  console  and  satisfy  the  kindness  of 
your  heart.  For  myself,  I  shall  die  as  I  have  lived — alone.  All 
fellowship  with  my  griefs  would  seem  to  me  strange  and  un- 
welcome." 

I  would  not  suffer  Glanville  to  proceed.  I  interrupted  him 
with  fresh  arguments  and  entreaties,  to  which  he  seemed  at  last 
to  submit,  and  I  was  in  the  firm  hope  of  having  conquered  his 
determination,  when  we  were  startled  by  a  sudden  and  violent 
noise  in  the  hall. 

"  It  is  Thornton,"  said  Glanville,  calmly,  "  I  told  them  not 
to  admit  him,  and  he  is  forcing  his  way." 

Scarcely  had  Sir  Reginald  said  this,  before  Thornton  burst 
abruptly  into  the  room. 

Although  it  was  scarcely  noon,  he  was  more  than  half  in- 
toxicated, and  his  eyes  swam  in  his  head  with  a  maudlin 
expression  of  triumph  and  insolence  as  he  rolled  towards  us. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  Sir  Reginald,"  he  said,  "  thought  of  giving  me  the 
slip,  eh  ?  Your  d — d  servants  said  you  were  out ;  but  I  soon 
silenced  them.  Egad,  I  made  them  as  nimble  as  cows  in  a 
cage — I  have  not  learnt  the  use  of  my  fists  for  nothing.  So, 
you're  going  abroad  to-morrow  ;  without  my  leave,  too, — pretty 
good  joke  that,  indeed.  Come,  come,  my  brave  fellow,  you  need 
not  scowl  at  me  in  that  way.  Why,  you  look  as  surly  as  a 
butcher's  dog  with  a  broken  head," 

Glanville,  who  was  livid  with  ill-suppressed  rage,  rose  haughtily. 

"  Mr.  Thornton,"  he  said,  in  a  calm  voice,  although  he  was 
trembling  in  his  extreme  passion,  from  head  to  foot,  "I  am  not 
now  prepared  to  submit  to  your  insolence  and  intrusion.  You 
will  leave  this  room  instantly.  If  you  have  any  further  demands 
upon  me,  I  will  hear  them  to-night  at  any  hour  you  please  to 
appoint." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  339 

"  No,  no,  my  fine  fellow,"  said  Thornton,  with  a  coarse 
chuckle  ;  "  you  have  as  much  wit  as  three  folks, — two  fools,  and 
a  madman  !  but  you  won't  do  me,  for  all  that.  The  instant  my 
back  is  turned,  yours  will  be  turned  too ;  and  by  the  time  I  call 
again,  your  honor  will  be  half-way  to  Calais.  But — bless  my 
stars,  Mr.  Pelham,  is  that  you  ?  I  really  did  not  see  you  before  ; 
I  suppose  you  are  not  in  the  secret  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  secrets  from  Mr.  Pelham,"  said  Glanville  ;  "  nor 
do  I  care  if  you  discuss  the  whole  of  your  nefarious  transactions 
with  me  in  his  presence.  Since  you  doubt  my  word,  it  is  be- 
neath my  dignity  to  vindicate  it,  and  your  business  can  as  well 
be  despatched  now,  as  hereafter.  You  have  heard  rightly,  that 
I  intend  leaving  England  to-morrow  :  and  now,  sir,  what  is  your 
will }  " 

"  By  G — ,  Sir  Reginald  Glanville  !  "  exclaimed  Thornton,  who 
seemed  stung  to  the  quick  by  Glanville's  contemptuous  coldness, 
"  you  shall  not  leave  England  without  my  leave.  Ay,  you  may 
frown,  but  I  say  you  shall  not ;  nay,  you  shall  not  budge  a  foot 
from  this  very  room  unless  I  cry,  '  Be  it  so  ! ' " 

Glanville  could  no  longer  restrain  himself.  He  would  have 
sprung  towards  Thornton,  but  I  seized  and  arrested  him.  I 
read,  in  the  malignant  and  incensed  countenance  of  his  perse- 
cutor, all  the  danger  to  which  a  single  imprudence  would  have 
exposed  him,  and  I  trembled  for  his  safety. 

I  whispered,  as  I  forced  him  again  to  his  seat,  "  Leave  me 
alone  to  settle  with  this  man,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  free  you 
from  him."  I  did  not  tarry  for  his  answer,  but,  turning  to 
Thornton,  said  to  him  coolly  and  civilly  ;  "  Sir  Reginald  Glan- 
ville has  acquainted  me  with  the  nature  of  your  very  extraordi- 
nary demands  upon  him.  Did  he  adopt  my  advice,  he  would 
immediately  place  the  affair  in  the  hands  of  his  legal  advisers. 
His  ill  health,  how-ever,  his  anxiety  to  leave  P^ngland,  and  his 
wish  to  sacrifice  almost  everything  to  quiet,  induce  him,  rather 
than  take  this  alternative,  to  silence  your  importunities,  by 
acceding  to  claims,  however  illegal  and  unjust.  If,  therefore, 
you  now  favdr  Sir  Reginald  with  your  visit,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  demand  previous  to  his  quitting  England,  and  which, 
consequently,  will  be  the  last  to  which  he  will  concede,  you  will 
have  the  goodness  to  name  the  amount  of  your  claim,  and 
should  it  be  reasonable,  I  think  Sir  Reginald  will  authorize  me 
to  say  that  it  shall  be  granted." 

"Well,  now!"  cried  Thornton,  "  that's  what  I  call  talking 
like  a  sensible  man  :  and  though  I  am  not  fond  of  speaking  to 
a  third  person,  when  the   principal  is  present,  yet  as  you  have 


340  PELHAM ;  ON, 

always  been  \exy  civil  to  me,  I  have  no  objection  to  treating 
with  you.  Please  to  give  Sir  Reginald  this  paper :  if  he  will 
but  take  the  trouble  to  sign  it,  he  may  go  to  the  Falls  of  Niagara 
for  me  !  I  won't  interrupt  him — so  he  had  better  put  pen  to 
paper,  and  get  rid  of  me  at  once,  for  I  know  I  am  as  welcome 
as  snow  in  harvest." 

I  took  the  paper,  which  was  folded  up,  and  gave  it  to  Glan- 
ville,  who  leant  back  on  his  chair,  half  exhausted  by  rage.  He 
glanced  his  eye  over  it,  and  then  tore  it  into  a  thousand  pieces, 
and  trampled  it  beneath  his  feet :  "  Go  !  "  exclaimed  he,  "  go, 
rascal,  and  do  your  worst  !  I  will  not  make  myself  a  beggar  to 
enrich  you.  My  whole  fortune  would  but  answer  this  de- 
mand." 

"Do  as  you  please.  Sir  Reginald,"  answered  Thornton, grin- 
ning, "  do  as  you  please.  It's  not  a  long  walk  from  hence  to 
Bow-street,  nor  a  long  swing  from  Newgate  to  the  gallows  ;  do 
as  you  please,  Sir  Reginald,  do  as  you  please  ! "  and  the  villain 
flung  himself  at  full  length  on  the  ottoman,  and  eyed  Glanville's 
countenance  with  an  easy  and  malicious  efifrontery,  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  I  know  you  will  struggle,  but  you  cannot  help 
yourself." 

I  took  Glanville  aside  :  "  My  dear  friend,"  said  I,  *'  believe 
me,  that  I  share  your  indignation  to  the  utmost ;  but  we  must 
do  anything  rather  than  incense  this  wretch  :  what  is  his  de- 
mand ?  " 

"  I  speak  literally,"  replied  Glanville,  "  when  I  say,  that  it 
covers  nearly  the  whole  of  my  fortune,  except  such  lands  as  are 
entailed  upon  the  male  heir  ;  for  my  habits  of  extravagance 
have  very  much  curtailed  my  means  :  it  is  the  exact  sum  I  had 
set  apart,  for  a  marriage  gift  to  my  sister,  in  addition  to  her  own 
fortune." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  you  shall  give  it  him  ;  your  sister  has  no 
longer  any  necessity  for  a  portion  ;  her  marriage  with  me  pre- 
vents that — and  with  regard  to  yourself,  your  wants  are  not 
many — such  as  it  is,  you  can  share  my  fortune." 

"  No — no — no  !  "  cried  Glanville  ;  and  his  generous  nature 
lashing  him  into  fresh  rage,  he  broke  from  my  grasp,  and 
moved  menacingly  to  Thornton.  That  person  still  lay  on  the 
ottoman,  regarding  us  with  an  air  half  contemptuous,  half  ex' 
ulting. 

"■Leave  the  room  instantly,"  said  Glanville,  "  or  you  will  re- 
pent it !  " 

''  What  !  another  murder,  Sir  Reginald  !  "  said  Thornton. 
"  No,  I  am  not  a  sparrow,  to  have  my  neck  wrenched  by  a  wo 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAA'.  341 

man's  hand  like  yours.     Give  me  my  demand — sign  the  paper, 
and  I  will  leave  you  for  ever  and  a  day." 

"  I  will  commit  no  such  folly,"  answered  Glanville.  "  If  you 
will  accept  five  thousand  pounds,  you  shall  have  that  sum  ;  but 
were  the  rope  on  my  neck,  you  should  nor  wring  from  me  a 
farthing  more  !  " 

"  Five  thousand  !  "  repeated  Thornton  ;  "  a  mere  drop — a 
child's  toy — why,  you  are  playing  with  me,  Sir  Reginald — nay, 
■I  am  a  reasonable  man,  and  will  abate  a  trifle  or  so  of  my  just 
claims,  but  you  must  not  take  advantage  of  my  good  nature. 
Make  me  snug  and  easy  for  life — let  me  keep  a  brace  of  hunters 
— a  cosy  box — a  bit  of  land  to  it,  and  a  girl  after  my  own  heart, 
and  I'll  say  quits  with  you.  Now,  Mr.  Pelham,  who  is  a  long- 
headed gentleman,  and  does  wo\.spit  on  his  own  blanket,  knows  well 
enough  that  one  can't  do  all  this  for  five  thousand  pounds  ; 
make  it  a  thousand  a  year — that  is,  give  me  a  cool  twenty  thou- 
sand— and  I  won't  exact  another  sou.  Egad,  this  drinking 
makes  one  deuced  thirsty — Mr.  Pelham,  just  reach  me  that  glass 
of  water — I  hear  bees  in  my  head !'" 

Seeing  that  I  did  not  stir,  Thornton  rose,  with  an  oath  against 
pride  ;  and  swaggering  towards  the  table,  took  up  a  tumbler  of 
water,  which  happened  accidentally  to  be  there  :  close  by  it  was 
the  picture  of  the  ill-fated  Gertrude.  The  gambler,  who  was 
evidently  so  intoxicated  as  to  be  scarcely  conscious  of  his  mo- 
tions or  words,  (otherwise,  in  all  probability,  he  would,  to  bor- 
row from  himself  a  proverb  illustrative  of  his  profession,  have 
played  his  cards  better,)  took  up  the  portrait. 

Glanville  saw  the  action,  and  was  by  his  side  in  an  instant. 
"  Touch  it  not  with  your  accursed  hands  ! "  he  cried,  in  an  un- 
governable fur}^  "  Leave  your  hold  this  instant,  or  I  will  dash 
you  to  pieces." 

Thornton  kept  a  firm  gripe  of  the  picture.  "  Here's  a  to-do  ! " 
said  he,  tauntingly  :  "  was  there  ever  such  work  about  a  poor 
(using  a  word  too  coarse  for  repetition)  before  ?  " 

The  word  had  scarcely  passed  his  lips,  when  he  was  stretched 
at  his  full  length  upon  the  floor.  Nor  did  Glanville  stop  there. 
With  all  the  strength  of  his  nervous  frame,  fully  requited  for  the 
debility  of  disease  by  the  fury  of  the  moment,  he  seized  the 
gamester  as  if  he  had  been  an  infant,  and  dragged  him  to  the 
door:  the  next  moment,  I  heard  his  hea\y  frame  rolling  down 
the  stairs  with  no  decorous  slowness  of  descent. 

Glanville  re-aj^peared.  "  Good  Heavens  !  "  I  cried,  "  what 
have  you  done  ?  "  But  he  was  too  lost  in  his  still  unappeased 
rage  to  heed  me.     He  leaned,  panting  and  breathless,    against 


342  PELHAM ;  OR, 

the  wall,  with  clenched  teeth,  and  a  flashing  eye,  rendered  more 
terribly  bright  by  the  feverish  lustre  natural  to  his  disease. 

Presently  I  heard  Thornton  re-ascend  the  stairs  ;  he  opened 
the  door,  and  entered  but  one  pace.  Never  did  human  face 
wear  a  more  fiendish  expression  of  malevolence  and  wrath.  "  Sir 
Reginald  Glanville,"  he  said,  "  I  thank  you  heartily.  He  must 
have  iron  nails  who  scratches  a  bear.  You  have  sent  me  a 
challenge,  and  the  hangman  shall  bring  you  my  answer.  Good 
day,  Sir  Reginald — good  day,  Mr.  Pelham ;  "  and  so  saying,  he 
shut  the  door,  and,  rapidly  descending  the  stairs,  was  out  of  the 
house  in  an  instant. 

"  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost,"  said  I  ;  "  order  post  horses  to 
your  carriage,  and  be  gone  instantly." 

"You  are  wrong,"  replied  Glanville,  slowly  recovering  himself. 
"  I  must  not  fly  ;  it  would  be  worse  than  useless  ;  it  would  seem 
the  strongest  argument  against  me.  Remember  that  if  Thornton 
has  really  gone  to  inform  against  me,  the  officers  of  justice  would 
arrest  me  long  before  I  reached  Calais ;  or  even  if  I  did  elude 
their  pursuit  so  far.  I  should  be  as  much  in  their  power  in 
France  as  in  England  :  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  do  not  think 
Thornton  will  inform.  Money,  to  a  temper  like  his,  is  a  stronger 
temptation  than  revenge  ;  and  before  he  has  been  three  minutes 
in  the  air,  he  will  perceive  the  folly  of  losing  the  golden  harvest 
he  may  yet  make  of  me,  for  the  sake  of  a  momentary  passion. 
No :  mv  best  plan  will  be  to  wait  here  till  to-morrow,  as  I  origi- 
nally intended.  In  the  meanwhile  he  will,  in  all  probability,  pay 
me  another  visit,  and  I  will  make  a  compromise  with  his  de- 
mands." 

Despite  my  fears,  I  could  not  but  see  the  justice  of  these 
observations,  the  more  especially  as  a  still  stronger  argument 
than  any  urged  by  Glanville,  forced  itself  on  my  mind ;  this  was 
my  internal  conviction,  that  Thornton  himself  was  guilty  of  the 
murder  of  Tyrrell,  and  that,  therefore,  he  would,  for  his  own 
sake,  avoid  the  new  and  particularizing  scrutiny  into  that  dread- 
ful event,  which  his  accusation  of  Glanville  would  necessarily 
occasion. 

Both  of  us  were  wrong.  Villains  have  passions  as  well  as 
honest  men  ;  and  they  will,  therefore,  forfeit  their  own  interest 
in  obedience  to  those  passions,  while  the  calculations  of  prudence 
invariably  suppose  that  interest  is  their  oJily  rule. 

Glanville  was  so  enfeebled  by  his  late  excitement,  that  he  be- 
sought me  once  more  to  leave  him  to  himself.  I  did  so,  under 
a  promise  that  he  would  admit  me  again  in  the  evening ;  for 
notwithstanding  my  persuasion  that  Thornton  would  not  put  his 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GEiVTLEMAX.  343 

threats  into  execution,  I  could  not  conquer  a  latent  foreboding 
of  dread  and  evil. 


CHAPTER  LXXVIII. 

Away  with  him  to  prison — where  is  the  provost  ? 

Aleasure  for  Measure. 

I  RETURNED  home,  perplexed  by  a  thousand  contradictory 
thoughts  upon  the  scene  I  had  just  witnessed  ;  the  more  I  re- 
flected, the  more  I  regretted  the  fatality  of  the  circumstances 
that  had  tempted  Glanville  to  accede  to  Thornton's  demand. 
True  it  was,  that  Thornton's  self-regard  might  be  deemed  a  suf- 
ficient guarantee  for  his  concealment  of  such  extortionate  transac- 
tions :  moreover,  it  was  difficult  to  say,  when  the  formidable  array 
of  appearances  against  Glanville  was  considered,  whether  any 
other  line  of  conduct  than  that  which  he  had  adopted,  could, 
with  safeity  have  been  pursued. 

His  feelings,  too,  with  regard  to  the  unfortunate  Gertrude,  I 
could  fully  enter  into,  and  sympathize  with  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all 
these  considerations,  it  was  with  an  inexpressible  aversion  that  I 
contemplated  the  idea  of  that  tacit  confession  of  guilt,  which 
his  compliance  with  Thornton's  exactions  so  unhappily  implied ; 
it  was,  therefore,  a  thought  of  some  satisfaction,  that  my  rash  and 
hasty  advice,  of  a  still  further  concession  to  those  exactions,  had 
not  been  acceded  to.  My  present  intention,  in  the  event  of 
Glanville's  persevering  to  reject  my  offer  of  accompanying  him, 
was  to  remain  in  England,  for  the  purpose  of  sifting  the  murder; 
nor  did  I  despair  of  accomplishing  this  most  desirable  end, 
through  the  means  of  Dawson  ;  for  there  was  but  little  doubt  in 
my  own  mind,  that  Thornton  and  himself  were  the  murderers, 
and  I  hoped  that  address  or  intimidation  might  win  a  confession 
from  Dawson,  although  it  might  probably  be  unavailing  with  his 
hardened  and  crafty  associate. 

Occupied  with  these  thoughts,  I  endeavored  to  while  away 
the  hours  till  the  evening  summoned  me  once  more  to  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  my  reflections.  The  instant  Glanville's  door 
was  opened,  I  saw,  by  one  glance,  that  I  had  come  too  late ; 
the  whole  house  was  in  confusion  ;  several  of  the  servants  were 
in  the  hall,  conferring  with  each  other,  with  that  mingled  mys- 
tery and  agitation  which  always  accompany  the  fears  and  conjec- 
tures of  the  lower  classes.  I  took  aside  the  valet,  who  had  lived 
with  Glanville  for  some  years,  and  who  was  remarkably  attached 


344  PELHAM ;  OK, 

to  his  master,  and  learned,  that,  somewhat  more  than  an  hour 
before,  Mr.  Thornton  had  returned  to  the  house,  accompanied 
by  three  men  of  very  suspicious  appearance.  "  In  short,  sir," 
said  the  man,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  I  knew  one  of 
them  by  sight;  he  was  Mr.  S.,  the  Bow-Street  ofificer ;  with  these 
men,  Sir  Reginald  left  the  house,  merely  saying,  in  his  usual 
qviet  manner,  that  he  did  not  know  when  he  should  return." 

I  concealed  my  perturbation,  and  endeavored,  as  far  as  I  was 
able,  to  quiet  the  evident  apprehensions  of  the  servant.  "  At 
all  events,  Seymour,"  said  I,  "  I  know  that  I  may  trust  you  suf- 
ficiently to  warn  you  against  mentioning  the  circumstance  any 
farther ;  above  all,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  stop  the  mouths  of  those 
idle  loiterers  in  the  hall — and  be  sure  that  you  do  not  give  any 
unnecessary  alarm  to  Lady  and  Miss  Glanville." 

The  poor  man  promised,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  would 
obey  my  injunctions;  and,  with  a  calm  face,  but  a  sickening 
heart,  I  turned  away  from  the  house.  I  knew  not  whither  to  di- 
rect my  wanderings ;  fortunately  I  recollected  that  I  should,  in 
all  probability,  be  among  the  first  witnesses  summoned  on  Glan- 
ville's  examination,  and  that  perhaps,  by  the  time  I  reached 
home,  I  might  already  receive  an  intimation  to  that  effect ;  ac- 
cordingly, 1  retraced  my  steps,  and,  on  re-entering  my  hotel, 
was  told  by  the  waiter,  with  a  mysterious  air,  that  a  gentleman 
was  waiting  to  see  me.  Seated  by  the  window  in  my  room,  and 
wiping  his  forehead  with  a  red  silk  pocket-handkerchief,  was  a 
short  thickset  man,  with  a  fiery  and  rugose  complexion,  not  al- 
together unlike  the  aspect  of  a  mulberry  :  from  underneath  a 
pair  of  shaggy  brows  peeped  two  singularly  small  eyes,  which 
made  ample  amends,  by  their  fire,  for  their  deficiency  in  size — 
they  were  black,  brisk,  and  somewhat  fierce  in  their  expression. 
A  nose  of  that  shape  vulgarly  termed  bottled,  formed  the  "  arch 
sublime,"  the  bridge,  the  twilight,  as  it  were,  between  the  purple 
sun-set  of  one  cheek,  and  the  glowing  sun-rise  of  the  other. 
His  mouth  was  small,  and  drawn  up  at  each  corner,  like  a  purse 
— there  was  something  sour  and  crabbed  about  it ;  if  it  was  like 
a  purse,  it  was  like  the  purse  of  a  miser :  a  fair  round  chin  had 
not  been  condemned  to  single  blessedness — on  the  contrary,  it 
was  like  a  farmer's  pillion,  and  carried  double ;  on  either  side 
of  a  very  low  forhead,  hedged  round  by  closely  mowed  bristles 
of  a  dingy  black,  was  an  enormous  ear  of  the  same  intensely 
rubicund  color  as  tha:;  inflamed  pendant  of  flesh  which  adorns  the 
throat  of  an  enraged  turkey-cock  ; — ears  so  large,  and  so  red,  I 
never  beheld  before — they  were  something  preposterous  ! 

This  enchanting  figure,  which  was  attired  in  a  sober  suit  of 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  345 

leaden  black,  relieved  by  a  long  gold  watch-chain,  and  a  plenti- 
ful decoration  of  seals,  rose  at  my  entrance  with  a  solemn  grunt, 
and  a  still  more  solemn  bow.  I  shut  the  door  carefully,  and 
asked  him  his  business.     As  I  had  foreseen,  it  was  a  request 

from  the  magistrate  at ,  to  attend  a  private  examination  on 

the  ensuing  day. 

"  Sad  thing,  sir,  sad  thing,"  said  Mr. ;  "  it  would  be  quite 

shocking  to  hang  a  gentleman  of  Sir  Reginald  Glanville's  qual- 
ity— so  distinguished  an  orator,  too ;  sad  thing,  sir, — very  sad 
thing." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I,  quietly,  "  there  is  not  a  doubt  as  to  Sir  Regi- 
nald's  innocence    of   the   crime    laid   to    him ;    and,  probably, 

Mr. ,  I  may  call  in  your  assistance  to-morrow,  to  ascertain 

the  real  murderers — I  think  I  am  possessed  of  some  clue." 

Mr. pricked  up  his  ears — those  enormous  ears  !   "  Sir,"  ho. 

said,  "I  shall  be  happy  to  accompany  you — ^very  happy;  giv<« 
me  the  clue  you  speak  of,  and  I  will  soon  find  the  villains. 
Horrid  thing,  sir,  murder — very  horrid.  It's  too  hard  that  a 
gentleman  cannot  take  his  ride  home  from  a  race,  or  a  merry- 
making, but  he  must  have  his  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear — ear 
to  ear,  sir ;  "  and  with  these  words,  the  speaker's  own  auricular 
protuberances  seemed,  as  in  conscious  horror,  to  glow  with  a 
double  carnation. 

"Very  true,  Mr. ! ''  said  I ;  "say  I  will  certainly  attend 

the  examination — till  then  good  by  !  "  At  this  hint,  my  fiery- 
faced  friend  made  a  low  bow,  and  blazed  out  of  the  room,  like 
the  ghost  of  a  kitchen  fire. 

Left  to  myself,  I  revolved,  earnestly  and  anxiously,  every  cir- 
cumstance that  could  tend  to  diminish  the  appearances  against 
Glanville,  and  direct  suspicion  to  that  quarter  where  I  was  con- 
fident the  guilt  rested.  In  this  endeavor  I  passed  the  time  till 
morning,  when  1  fell  into  an  uneasy  slumber,  which  lasted  some 
hours ;  on  waking,  it  was  almost  time  to  attend  the  magistrate's 
appointment.  I  dressed  hastily,  and  soon  found  myself  in  the 
room  of  inquisition. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  more  courteous,  and  yet  more 
equitable  man,  than  the  magistrate  whom  I  had  the  honor  of 
attending.  He  spoke  with  great  feeling  on  the  subject  for  which 
I  was  summoned — owned  to  me,  that  Thornton's  statement  was 
very  clear  and  forcible — trusted  that  my  evidence  would  contra- 
dict an  account  which  he  was  very  loath  to  believe ;  and  then 
proceeded  to  the  ciuestion.  I  saw,  with  an  agony  which  I  can 
scarcely  express,  that  all  my  answers  made  powerfully  against 
the  cause  I  endeavored  to  support.     I  was  obliged  to  own  thai 


346  PELHAM;  OR, 

a  man  on  horseback  passed  me  soon  after  Tyrrell  had  quitted 
me ;  that,  on  coming  to  the  spot  where  the  deceased  was  found, 
I  saw  this  same  horseman  on  the  very  place  :  that  I  believed, 
nay,  that  I  was  sure,  (how  should  I  evade  this  ?)  that  this  man 
was  Reginald  Glanville. 

Farther  evidence,  Thornton  had  already  offered  to  adduce. 
He  could  prove,  that  the  said  horseman  had  been  mounted  on 
a  grey  horse,  sold  to  a  person  answering  exactly  to  the  de- 
scription of  Sir  Reginald  Glanville ;  moreover,  that  that  horse 
was  yet  in  the  stables  of  the  prisoner.  He  produced  a  letter, 
which,  he  said,  he  had  found  upon  the  person  of  the  deceased, 
signed  b}''Sir  Reginald  Glanville,  and  containing  the  most  deadly 
threats  against  Sir  John  Tyrrell's  life  ;  and,  to  crown  all,  he 
called  upon  me  to  witness,  that  we  had  both  discovered  upon 
the  spot  where  the  murder  was  committed,  a  picture  belonging 
to  the  prisoner,  since  restored  to  him,  and  now  in  his  posses- 
sion. 

At  the  close  of  his  examination,  the  worthy  magistrate  shook 
his  head,  in  evident  distress  !  "  I  have  known  Sir  Reginald 
Glanville  personally,"  said  he  :  "  in  private  as  in  public  life,  I 
have  always  thought  him  the  most  upright  and  honorable  of 
men.  I  feel  the  greatest  pain  in  saying,  that  it  will  be  my  duty 
fully  to  commit  him  for  trial." 

1  interrupted  the  magistrate  ;  I  demanded  that  Dawson  should 
be  produced.  "  I  have  already,"  said  he,  "  inquired  of  Thorn- 
ton respecting  that  person,  whose  testimony  is  of  evident  impor- 
tance ;  he  tells  me  that  Dawson  has  left  the  country,  and  can 
give  me  no  clue  of  his  address." 

"  He  lies  !  "  cried  I,  in  the  abrupt  anguish  of  my  heart ;  "  his 
associate  shall  be  produced.  Hear  me,  I  have  been,  next  to 
Thornton,  the  chief  witness  against  the  prisoner,  and  when  I 
swear  to  you,  that,  in  spite  of  all  appearances,  I  most  solemnly 
believe  in  his  innocence,  you  may  rely  on  my  assurance,  that 
there  are  circumstances  in  his  favor  which  have  not  yet  been 
considered,  but  which  I  will  pledge  myself  hereafter  to  adduce." 
I  then  related  to  the  private  ear  of  the  magistrate  my  firm  con- 
viction of  the  guilt  of  the  accuser  himself.  I  dwelt  forcibly  upon 
the  circumstance  of  Tyrrell's  having  mentioned  to  me  that 
Thornton  was  aware  of  the  large  sum  he  had  on  his  person,  and 
of  the  strange  disappearance  of  that  sum,  when  his  body  was 
examined  in  the  fatal  field.  After  noting  how  impossible  it  was 
that  Glanville  could  have  stolen  the  money,  I  insisted  strongly 
on  the  distressed  circumstances — the  dissolute  habits,  and  the 
hardened  character,  of  Thornton — I  recalled  to  the  mind  of  the 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  347 

magistrate  the  singularity  of  Thornton's  absence  from  home 
when  I  called  there,  and  the  doubtful  nature  of  his  excuse  : 
much  more  I  said,  but  all  equally  in  vain.  The  only  point  where 
I  was  successful,  was  in  pressing  for  a  delay  which  was  granted 
to  the  passionate  manner  in  which  I  expressed  my  persuasion 
that  I  could  confirm  my  suspicions  by  much  stronger  data  be- 
fore the  reprieve  expired, 

"  It  is  very  true,"  said  the  righteous  magistrate,  "  that  there 
are  appearances  somewhat  against  the  witness  :  but  certainly 
not  tantamount  to  anything  above  a  slight  suspicion.  If,  how 
ever,  you  positively  think  you  can  ascertain  any  facts,  to  eluci- 
date this  mysterious  crime,  and  point  the  inquiries  of  justice  to 
another  quarter,  I  will  so  far  strain  the  question,  as  to  remand 
the  prisoner  to  another  day — let  us  say  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
If  nothing  important  can  before  then  be  found  in  his  favor  he 
must  be  committed  for  trial." 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

Nihil  est  furacius  illo  : 
Non  fuit  Autolyci  tarn  piceata  manus. — Martial. 

Quo  tencani  vultiis  mutantem  Protea  nodo  ? — Horat. 

When  I  left  the  magistrate,  I  knew  not  whither  my  next  step 
should  tend.  There  was,  however,  no  time  to  indulge  the  idle 
stupor  which  Glanville's  situation  at  first  occasioned ;  with  a 
violent  effort,  I  shook  it  off,  and  bent  all  my  mind  to  discover 
the  best  method  to  avail  myself,  to  the  utmost,  of  the  short  re- 
prieve I  had  succeeded  in  obtaining.  At  length,  one  of  those 
sudden  thoughts  which,  from  their  suddenness,  appear  more 
brilliant  than  they  really  are,  flashed  upon  my  mind.  I  remem- 
bered the  accomplished  character  of  Mr.  Job  Jonson,  and  the 
circumstance  of  my  having  seen  him  in  company  with  Thorn- 
ton. Now,  although  it  was  not  very  likely  that  Thornton  should 
have  made  Mr.  Jonson  his  confidant,  in  any  of  those  affairs 
which  it  was  so  essentially  his  advantage  to  confine  exclusively 
to  himself ;  yet  the  acuteness  and  penetration  visible  in  the 
character  of  the  worthy  Job,  might  not  have  lain  so  fallow 
during  his  companionship  with  Thornton,  but  tiiat  it  might  have 
made  some  discoveries  which  would  considerably  assist  me  in 
my  researches  ;  besides,  as  it  is  literally  true  in  the  systema- 
tized   roguery   of  London,  that    "  birds  of   a  feather    flock  to- 


348  PELHAM;  OR, 

gether,"  it  was  by  no  means  unlikely  that  the  honestjob  might  be 
honored  with  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Dawson,  as  well  as  the  com- 
pany of  Mr.  Thornton  ;  in  which  case  I  looked  forward  with 
greater  confidence  to  the  detection  of  the  notable  pair. 

I  could  not,  howev^er,  conceal  from  myself,  that  this  was  but 
a  very  unstable  and  ill-linked  chain  of  reasoning  ;  and  there 
were  moments,  when  the  appearances  against  Glanville  wore  so 
close  a  semblance  of  truth,  that  all  my  friendship  could  scarcely 
drive  from  my  mind  an  intrusive  suspicion  that  he  might  have 
deceived  me,  and  that  the  accusation  might  not  be  groundless. 

This  unwelcome  idea  did  not,  however,  at  all  lessen  the 
rapidity  with  which  I  hastened  towards  the  memorable  gin-shop, 
where  I  had  whilom  met  Mr.  Gordon  :  there  I  hoped  to  find 
either  the  address  of  that  gentleman  or  of  the  "  Club,"  to  which 
he  had  taken  me,  in  company  with  Tringle  and  Dartmore  : 
either  at  this  said  club,  or  of  that  said  gentleman,  I  thought  it 
not  unlikely,  that  I  might  hear  some  tidings  of  the  person  of 
Mr,  Job  Jonson — if  not,  I  was  resolved  to  return  to  the  office, 

and  employ  Mr. ,  my  mulberry-cheeked  acquaintance  of  the 

last  night,  in  search  after  the  holy  Job. 

Fate  saved  me  a  world  of  trouble  :  as  I  was  hastily  walking 
onwards,  I  happened  to  turn  my  eyes  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  way,  and  discovered  a  man  dressed  in  what  the  newspapers 
term  the  very  height  of  fashion,  viz.  :  in  the  most  ostentatious 
attire  that  ever  flaunted  at  Margate,  or  blazed  in  the  Palais 
Royal.  The  nether  garments  of  iXixs  pctit-tnaitre  consisted  of  a 
pair  of  blue  tight  pantaloons,  profusely  braided,  and  terminating 
in  Hessian  boots,  adorned  with  brass  spurs  of  the  most  bur- 
nished resplendency  ;  a  black  velvet  waistcoat,  studded  with 
gold  stars,  was  backed  by  a  green  frock  coat,  covered,  notwith- 
standing the  heat  of  the  weather,  with  fur,  and  frogged  and  cor- 
donne  with  the  most  lordly  indifference,  both  as  to  taste  and 
expense  :  a  small  French  hat,  which  might  not  have  been  much 

too  large  for  my  lord  of ,  was  set  jauntily  in  the  centre  of  a 

system  of  long  black  curls,  which  my  eye,  long  accustomed  to 
penetrate  the  arcana  of  habilatory  art,  discovered  at  once  to  be 
a  wig.  A  fierce  black  mustachio,  very  much  curled,  wandered 
lovingly  fiom  the  upper  lip  towards  the  eyes,  which  had  an  un- 
fortunate prepossession  for  eccentricity  in  their  direction.  To 
complete  the  picture,  we  must  suppose  some  coloring — and  this 
consisted  in  a  very  nice  and  delicate  touch  of  the  rouge  pot, 
which  could  not  be  called  by  so  harsh  a  term  as  paint ; — say 
rather  that  it  was  a  tinge  ! 

No  sooner  had  I  set  my  eyes  upon  this  figure,  than  I  crossed 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  349 

over  to  the  side  of  the  way  which  it  was  adorning,  and  followed 
its  motions  at  a  respectful  but  observant  distance. 

At  length  my  frchiqiiet  marched  into  a  jeweller's  shop  in 
Oxford  street ;  with  a  careless  air,  I  affected,  two  miuutes  after- 
wards, to  saunter  into  the  same  shop  ;  the  shopman  was  show- 
ing his  bijouterie  to  him  of  the  Hessians  with  the  greatest  re- 
spect ;  and,  beguiled  by  the  splendor  of  the  wig  and  waistcoat, 
turned  me  over  to  his  apprentice.  Another  time,  I  might  have 
been  indignant  at  perceiving  that  the  air  noble,  on  which  I  had 
so  piqued  myself,  was  by  no  means  so  universally  acknowledged 
as  I  had  vainly  imagined  : — at  that  moment  I  was  too  occupied  to 
think  of  my  insulted  dignity.  While  I  was  pretending  to  appear 
wholly  engrossed  with  some  seals,  I  kept  a  vigilant  eye  on  my 
superb  fellow-customer ;  at  last,  I  saw  him  secrete  a  diamond 
ring,  and  thrust  it,  by  a  singular  movement  of  the  fore-finger,  up 
the  fur  cuif  of  his  capacious  sleeve  ;  presently,  some  other 
article  of  minute  size  disappeared  in  the  like  manner. 

The  gentleman  then  rose,  expressed  himself  very  well  satisfied 
by  the  great  taste  of  the  jeweller,  said  he  should  look  in  again 
on  Saturday,  when  he  hoped  the  set  he  had  ordered  would  be 
completed,  and  gravely  took  his  departure  amidst  the  prodigal 
bows  of  the  shopman  and  his  helpmates.  Meanwhile,  I  bought 
a  seal  of  small  value,  and  followed  my  old  acquaintance,  for  the 
reader  has  doubtless  discovered,  long  before  this,  that  the  gentle- 
man was  no  other  than  Mr.  Job  Jonson. 

Slowly  and  struttingly  did  the  man  of  two  virtues  perform  the 
whole  pilgrimage  of  Oxford  street.  He  stopped  at  Cumberland- 
gate,  and,  looking  round,  with  an  air  of  gentlemanlike  inde- 
cision, seemed  to  consider  whether  or  not  he  should  join  the 
loungers  in  the  park :  fortunately  for  the  well-bred  set,  his 
doubts  terminated  in  their  favor,  and  Mr.  Job  Jonson  entered 
the  park.  Every  one  happened  to  be  thronging  to  Kensington 
Gardens,  and  the  man  of  two  virtues  accordingly  cut  across  the 
park  as  the  shortest,  but  the  less  frequented  way  thither,  in  or- 
der to  confer  upon  the  seekers  of  pleasure  the  dangerous  honor 
of  his  company. 

As  soon  as  I  percei\'ed  that  there  were  but  few  persons  in  the 
immediate  locality  to  observe  me,  and  that  those  consisted  of  a 
tall  guardsman  and  his  wife,  a  family  of  young  children  with  their 
nurse r)'-maid,  and  a  debilitated  East  India  Captain,  walking  for 
the  sake  of  his  liver,  I  overtook  the  incomparable  Job,  made 
him  a  low  bow,  and  thus  reverently  accosted  him — 

"  Mr.  Jonson,  I  am  delighted  once  more  to  meet  you — suffer 
me  to  remind  you  of  the  very  pleasant  morning  I  passed  with 


350  PELHAM ;  OR, 

you  in  the  neighborhood  of  Hampton  Court.  I  perceive,  by 
your  mustachios  and  military  dress,  that  you  have  entered  the 
army,  since  that  day  ;  I  congratulate  the  British  troops  on  so 
admirable  an  acquisition." 

Mr.  Jonson's  assurance  forsook  him  for  a  moment,  but  he 
lost  no  time  in  regaining  a  quality  which  was  so  natural  to  his 
character.  He  assumed  a  tierce  look,  and,  relevant  sa  mous- 
tache^ sourit  amerement,  like  Voltaire's  governor.* — "  D —  me, 
sir,"  he  cried,  "  do  you  mean  to  insult  me  .''  I  know  none  of 
your  Mr.  Jonsons,  and  I  never  set  my  eyes  upon  you  before." 

"  Lookye,  my  dear  Mr.  Job  Jonson,"  replied  I,  "  as  I  can 
prove  not  only  all  I  say,  but  much  more  that  I  shall  not  say — 
such  as  your  little  mistakes  just  now,  at  the  jeweller's  shop  in 
Oxford  street,  etc.,  etc.,  perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  you  not 
to  oblige  me  to  create  a  mob,  and  give  you  in  charge — pardon 
my  abruptness  of  speech — to  a  constable  ! — Surely  there  will  be 
no  need  of  such  a  disagreeable  occurrence,  when  I  assure  you, 
in  the  first  place,  that  I  perfectly  forgive  you  for  ridding  me  of 
the  unnecessary  comforts  of  a  pocket-book  and  handkerchief, 
the  unphilosophical  appendage  of  a  purse,  and  the  effeminate 
love-token  of  a  gold  locket ;  nor  is  this  all — it  is  perfectly 
indifferent  to  me,  whether  you  levy  contributions  on  jewellers  or 
gentlemen,  and  I  am  very  far  from  wishing  to  intrude  upon 
your  harmless  occupations,  or  to  interfere  with  your  innocent 
amusements.  I  see,  Mr.  Jonson,  that  you  are  beginning  to 
understand  me  ;  let  me  facilitate  so  desirable  an  end  by  an 
additional  information,  that,  since  it  is  preceded  with  a  promise 
to  open  my  purse,  may  tend  somewhat  to  open  your  heart ;  I 
am  at  this  moment  in  great  want  of  your  assistance — favor  me 
with  it,  and  I  will  pay  you  to  your  soul's  content.  Are  we 
friends  now,  Mr.  Job  Jonson  ?  " 

My  old  friend  burst  out  into  a  loud  laugh.  "Well,  sir,  I 
must  say  that  your  frankness  enchants  me.  I  can  no  longer 
dissemble  with  you ;  indeed,  I  perceive  it  would  be  useless ; 
besides,  I  always  adored  candor — it  is  my  favorite  virtue.  Tell 
me  how  I  can  help  you,  and  you  may  command  my  services." 

"  One  word,"  said  I :  "  will  you  be  open  and  ingenuous  with 
me  ?  I  shall  ask  you  certain  questions,  not  in  the  least  affect- 
ing your  own  safety,  but  to  which,  if  you  would  serve  me,  you 
must  give  me  (and,  since  candor  is  your  favorite  virtue,  this  will 
be  no  difficult  task)  your  most  candid  replies.  To  strengthen 
you  in  so  righteous  a  course,  know  also  that  the  said  replies 
will  come  verbatim  before  a  court  of  law,  and  that,  therefore   it 

*  Don  Fernand  d'Ibarra,  in  the  "  Candidc.'" 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  331 

will  be  a  matter  of  prudence  to  shape  them  as  closely  to  the 
truth  as  your  inclinations  will  allow.  To  counterbalance  diis 
information,  which,  I  own,  is  not  very  inviting,  I  repeat  that 
the  questions  asked  you  will  be  wholly  foreign  to  your  own 
affairs,  and  that,  should  you  prove  of  that  assistance  to  me 
which  I  anticipate,  I  will  so  testify  my  gratitude  as  to  place 
you  beyond  the  necessity  of  pillaging  rural  young  gentlemen 
and  credulous  shopkeepers  for  the  future  ; — all  your  present 
pursuits  need  thenceforth  only  be  carried  on  for  your  private 
amusement." 

"  I  repeat,  that  you  may  command  me,"  returned  Mr.  Jonson, 
gracefully  putting  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

"  Pray  then,"  said  I,  "  to  come  at  once  to  the  point,  how 
long  have  you  been  acquainted  with  Mr.  Thomas  Thornton?  " 

"  For  some  months  only,"  returned  Job,  without  the  least 
embarrassment. 

"  And  Mr.  Dawson  ?  "  said  I. 

A  slight  change  came  over  Jonson's  countenance ;  he  hesita- 
ted. "  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  he  ;  "  but  I  am,  really,  perfectly 
unacquainted  with  you,  and  I  may  be  falling  into  some  trap  of 
the  law,  of  which.  Heaven  knows,  I  am  as  ignorant  as  a  babe 
unborn." 

I  saw  the  knavish  justice  of  this  remark  :  and  in  my  predomi- 
nating zeal  to  serve  Glanville,  I  looked  upon  the  mcom'enience 
of  discovering  myself  to  a  pickpocket  and  sharper,  as  a  consid- 
eration not  worth  attending  to.  In  order,  therefore,  to  remove 
his  doubts,  and  at  the  same  time,  to  have  a  more  secret  and 
undisturbed  place  for  our  conference,  I  proposed  to  him  to  ac- 
company me  home.  At  first,  Mr.  Jonson  demurred,  but  I  soon 
half-persuaded  and  half-intimidated  him  into  compliance. 

Not  particular!)^  liking  to  be  publicly  seen  with  a  person  of 
his  splendid  description  and  celebrated  character,  I  made  him 
walk  before  me  to  Mivart's,  and  I  followed  him  closely,  never 
turning  my  eye  either  to  the  right  or  left,  lest  he  should  en- 
deavor to  escape  me.  There  was  no  fear  of  this,  for  Mr.  Jon- 
son was  both  a  bold  and  a  crafty  man,  and  it  required,  perhaps, 
but  little  of  his  penetration  to  discover  that  I  was  no  officer  nor 
informer,  and  that  my  comnumication  had  been  of  a  nature 
likely  enough  to  terminate  in  his  advantage;  there  was,  there- 
fore, but  little  need  of  his  courage  in  accompanying  me  to  my 
hotel. 

There  was  a  good  many  foreigners  of  rank  at  Mivart's,  and 
the  waiters  took  my  companion  for  an  ambassador  at  least ;  he 


352  FELHAM;  OR, 

received  their  homage  with  the  mingled  dignity  and  condescen- 
sion natural  to  so  great  a  man. 

As  the  day  was  now  far  advanced,  I  deemed  it  but  hospitable 
to  offer  Mr.  Job  Jonson  some  edible  refreshment.  With  the 
frankness  on  which  he  so  justly  valued  himself,  he  accepted  my 
proposal.  I  ordered  some  cold  meat  and  two  bottles  of  wine ; 
and,  mindful  of  old  maxims,  deferred  my  business  till  his  repast 
was  over.  I  conversed  with  him  merely  upon  ordinary  topics, 
and,  at  another  time,  should  have  been  much  amused  by  the 
singular  mixture  of  impudence  and  shrewdness  which  formed 
the  stratum  of  his  character. 

At  length  his  appetite  was  satisfied,  and  one  of  the  bottles 
emptied ;  with  the  other  before  him,  his  body  easily  reclining 
on  my  library  chair,  his  eyes  apparently  cast  downwards,  but 
ever  and  anon  glancing  up  at  my  countenance  with  a  searching 
and  curious  look,  Mr.  Job  Jonson  prepared  himself  for  our  con- 
ference ;  accordingly  I  began  : — 

"  You  say  that  you  are  acquainted  with  Mr.  Dawson  ;  where 
is  he  at  present  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Jonson,  laconically. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  no  trifling — if  you  do  not  know,  j^ou  can 
learn." 

"  Possibly  I  can,  in  the  course  of  time,"  rejoined  honest  Job. 

"  If  you  cannot  tell  me  his  residence  at  once,"  said  I,  "  our 
conference  is  at  an  end ;  that  is  a  leading  feature  in  my  in- 
quiries." 

Jonson  paused  before  he  replied — "  You  have  spoken  to  me 
frankly;  let  us  do  nothing  by  halves — tell  me,  at  once,  the 
nature  of  the  service  I  can  do  you,  and  the  amount  of  my  re- 
ward, and  then  you  shall  have  my  answer.  With  respect  to 
Dawson,  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  did  once  know  him  well, 
and  that  we  have  done  many  a  mad  prank  together,  which  I 
should  not  like  the  bugaboos  and  bulkies  to  know  ;  you  will, 
therefore,  see  that  I  am  naturally  reluctant  to  tell  you  anything 
about  him,  unless  your  honor  will  inform  me  of  the  why  and  the 
wherefore." 

I  was  somewhat  startled  by  this  speech,  and  by  the  shrewd, 
cunning  eye  which  dwelt  upon  me  as  it  was  uttered  ;  but,  how 
ever,  I  was  by  no  means  sure  that  acceding  to  his  proposal 
would  not  be  my  readiest  and  wisest  way  to  the  object  I  had  in 
view.  Nevertheless,  there  was  some  preliminary  questions  to 
be  got  over  first :  perhaps  Dawson  might  be  too  dear  a  friend 
to  the  candid  Job,  for  the  latter  to  endanger  his  safety  ;  or 
perhaps  (and  this  was  more  probable)  Jonson  might  be    per- 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  353 

fectly  ignorant  of  anything  likely  to  aid  me  ;  in  this  case  my 
communication  would  be  useless ;  accordingly  I  said,  after  a 
short  consideration — 

"  Patience,  my  dear  Mr.  Jonson — patience  ;  you  shall  know 
all  in  good  time ;  meanwhile  I  must — even  for  Dawson's  sake 
— question  you  blindfold.  What,  now,  if  your  poor  friend  Daw- 
son were  in  imminent  danger,  and  you  had,  if  it  so  pleased  you, 
the  power  to  save  him  ;  would  you  not  do  all  you  could  ?  " 

The  small  coarse  features  of  Mr.  Job  grew  blank  with  a  cu' 
rious  sort  of  disappointment :  "  Is  that  all  ?  "  said  he.  "  No\ 
unless  I  were  well  paid  for  my  pains  in  his  behalf,  he  might  go 
to  Botany  Bay,  for  all  I  care." 

"  What !  "  I  cried,  in  a  tone  of  reproach,  "  is  this  your  friend- 
ship ?  I  thought,  just  now,  that  you  said  Dawson  had  been  an 
old  and  firm  associate  of  yours." 

"An  old  one,  )^our  honor,  but  not  a  firm  one.  A  short  time 
ago,  I  was  in  great  distress,  and  he  and  Thornton  had,  deuce 
knows  how  !  about  two  thousand  between  them  ;  but  I  could 
not  worm  a  stiver  out  of  Dawson — that  gripe-all,  Thornton,  got 
it  all  from  him." 

"  Two  thousand  pounds  !  "  said  I,  in  a  calm  voice,  though  my 
heart  beat  violently,  "  that's  a  great  sum  for  a  poor  fellow  like 
Dawson.     How  long  ago  is  it  since  he  had  it  ?  " 

"  About  two  or  three  months,"  answered  Jonson. 

"  Pray,"  I  asked,  "  have  you  seen  much  of  Dawson  lately  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  replied  Jonson. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  I.  "  I  thought  you  told  me,  just  now,  that 
you  were  unacquainted  with  his  residence  ?  " 

"  So  I  am,"  replied  Jonson,  coldly  ;  "  it  is  not  at  his  own 
house  that  I  ever  see  him." 

I  was  silent,  for  I  was  now  rapidly  and  minutely  weighing  the 
benefits  and  disadvantages  of  trusting  Jonson  as  he  had  desired 
me  to  do. 

To  reduce  the  question  to  the  simplest  form  of  logic,  he  had 
either  the  power  of  assisting  my  investigation,  or  he  had  not  ;  if 
not,  neither  could  he  much  impede  it,  and,  therefore,  it  mattered 
little  whether  he  was  in  my  confidence  or  not ;  if  he  had  <lie 
power,  the  doubt  was,  whether  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  ben- 
efit by  it  openly,  or  by  stratagem  ;  that  is — whether  it  were 
wiser  to  state  the  whole  case  to  him,  or  continue  to  gain  what- 
ever I  was  able  by  dint  of  a  blind  examination.  Now,  the  dis- 
advantage of  candor  was,  that  if  it  were  his  wish  to  screen  Daw- 
son and  his  friend,  lie  would  be  prepared  to  do  so,  and  even  to 
put  them  on  their  guard  against  my  suspicions  ;  but  the  indiffcr 


354  PELHAM;  OR, 

ence  he  had  testified  with  regard  to  Dawson  seemed  to  render 
this  probability  very  small.  The  benefits  of  candor  were  more 
prominent :  Job  would  then  be  fully  aware  that  his  own  safety 
was  not  at  stake  ;  and  should  I  make  it  more  his  interest  to 
serve  the  innocent  than  the  guilty,  I  should  have  the  entire  ad- 
vantage, not  only  of  any  actual  information  he  might  possess, 
but  of  his  skill  and  shrewdness  in  providing  additional  proof,  or 
at  least  suggesting  advantageous  hints.  Moreover,  in  spite  of 
my  vanity  and  opinion  of  my  own  penetration,  I  could  not  but 
confess  that  it  was  unlikely  that  my  cross  examination  would  be 
very  successful  with  so  old  and  experienced  a  sinner  as  Mr.  Jon- 
son.  "  Set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,''  is  among  the  wisest  of  wise 
sayings,  and  accordingly  I  resolved  in  favor  of  a  disclosure. 

Drawing  my  chair  close  to  Jon  son's,  and  fixing  my  eye  upon 
his  countenance,  I  briefly  proceeded  to  sketch  Glanville's  situa- 
tion (only  concealing  his  name)  and  Thornton's  charges.  I 
mentioned  my  own  suspicions  of  the  accuser,  and  my  desire  of 
discovering  Dawson,  whom  Thornton  appeared  to  me  artfully  to 
secrete.  Lastly,  I  concluded  with  a  solemn  promise,  that  if  my 
listener  could  by  any  zeal,  exertion,  knowledge,  or  contrivance 
of  his  own,  procure  the  detection  of  the  men  who,  I  was  con- 
vinced, were  the  murderers,  a  pension  of  three  hundred  pounds 
a  year  should  be  immediately  settled  upon  him.  . 

During  my  communication,  the  patient  Job  sat  mute  and  still, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  only  betraying,  by  an  occa- 
sional elevation  of  the  brows,  that  he  took  the  slightest  interest 
in  the  tale  :  when,  however,  I  touched  upon  the  peroration,  which 
so  tenderly  concluded  with  the  mention  of  three  hundred  pounds 
a  year,  a  visible  change  came  over  the  countenance  of  Mr.  Jon- 
son.  He  rubbed  his  hands  with  an  air  of  great  content,  and 
one  sudden  smile  broke  over  his  features,  and  almost  buried  his 
eyes  amid  the  intricate  host  of  wrinkles  which  it  called  forth  : 
the  smile  vanished  as  rapidly  as  it  came,  and  Mr.  Job  turned 
round  to  me  with  a  solemn  and  sedate  aspect. 

"  Well,  your  honor,"  said  he,  "  I'm  glad  you've  told  me  all  : 
we  must  see  what  can  be  done.  As  for  Thornton,  I'm  afraid  we 
shan't  make  much  out  of  him,  for  he's  an  old  offender,  whose 
conscience  is  as  hard  as  a  brickbat ;  but  of  Dawson  I  hope  bet- 
ter things.  However,  you  must  let  me  go  now,  for  this  is  a  mat- 
ter that  requires  a  vast  deal  of  private  consideration.  I  shall 
call  upon  you  to-morrow,  sir,  before  ten  o'clock,  since  you  say 
matters  are  so  pressing  ,  and  I  trust  you  will  then  see  that  you 
have  no  reason  to  repent  of  the  confidence  you  have  placed  in  a 
man  of  honor. " 


ADVEIVTUKES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN:  355 

So  saying,  Mr.  Job  Jonson  emptie<:l  the  remainder  of  the  bottle 
into  his  tumbler,  held  it  up  to  the  light  with  the  gusto  of  a  con- 
noisseur, and  concluded  his  potations  with  a  hearty  smack  of 
the  lips,  followed  by  a  long  sigh. 

"Ah,  your  honor,"  said  he,  "good  wine  is  a  marvellous  whet- 
ter  of  the  intellect ;  but  your  true  philosopher  is  always  mod- 
erate :  for  my  part,  I  never  exceed  my  two  bottles." 

And  with  these  words,  this  true  philosopher  took  his  depart- 
ure. 

No  sooner  was  I  freed  from  his  presence,  than  my  thoughts 
flew  to  Ellen  ;  I  had  neither  been  able  to  call  nor  write  the 
whole  of  the  day  ;  and  I  was  painfully  fearful  lest  my  precaution 
with  Sir  Reginald's  valet  had  been  frustrated,  and  the  alarm  of 
his  imprisonment  had  reached  her  and  Lady  Glanville.  Har- 
assed by  this  fear,  I  disregarded  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and 
immediately  repaired  to  Berkeley-square. 

Lady  and  Miss  Glanville  were  alone  and  at  dinner :  the  ser- 
vant spoke  with  his  usual  unconcern.  "  They  are  quite  well  ?  " 
said  I,  relieved,  but  still  anxious :  and  the  servant  replying  in 
the  affirmative,  I  again  returned  home,  and  wrote  a  long  and,  I 
hope,  consoling  letter  to  Sir  Reginald. 


CHAPTER  LXXX. 

K.  Henry.    Lord  Say,  Jack  Cade  hath  sworn  to  have  thy  head. 
Say.     Ay,  but  I  hope  your  Highness  shall  have  his. 

Second  Part  of  Henry  IV. 

Punctual  to  his  appointment,  the  next  morning  came  Mr. 
Job  Jonson,  I  had  been  on  the  rack  of  expectation  for  the  last 
three  hours  previous  to  his  arrival,  and  the  warmth  of  my  wel- 
come must  have  removed  any  little  diffidence  with  which  so 
shamefaced  a  gentleman  might  possibly  have  been  troubled. 

At  my  request,  he  sat  himself  down,  and  seeing  that  my 
breakfast  things  were  on  the  table,  remarked  what  a  famous 
appetite  the  fresh  air  always  gave  him.  I  took  the  hint,  and 
pushed  the  rolls  towards  him.  He  immediately  fell  to  work, 
and,  for  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour,  his  mouth  was  far  too  well 
occupied  for  the  intrusive  impertinence  of  words.  At  last  the 
things  were  removed,  and  Mr.  Jonson  began. 

"I  have  thought  well  over  the  matter,  your  honor,  and  I  be- 
lieve we  can   manage  to  trounce  the  rascals — for  I  agree  with 


3S6  PELHAM ;  OK, 

you,  that  there  is  n-ot  a  doubt  that  Thornton  and  Dawson  are  the 
real  criminals  ;  but  the  atTair,  sir,  is  one  of  tlie  greatest  difficulty 
and  importance — nay,  of  the  greatest  personal  danger.  My  life 
may  be  the  forfeit  of  my  desire  to  serve  you — you  will  not, 
therefore,  be  surprised  at  my  accepting  your  liberal  offer  of 
three  hundred  a  year,  should  I  be  successful ;  although  I  do 
assure  you,  sir,  that  it  was  my  original  intention  to  reject  all  re- 
compense, for  I  am  naturally  benevolent,  and  love  doing  a  good 
action.  Indeed,  sir,  if  1  were  alone  in  the  world,  I  should 
scorn  any  remuneration,  for  virtue  is  its  own  reward ;  but  a  real 
moralist,  your  honor,  must  not  forget  his  duties  on  any  considera- 
tion, and  I  have  a  little  family  to  whom  my  loss  would  be  an  ir- 
reparable injury  ;  this,  upon  my  honor,  is  my  only  inducement  for 
taking  advantage  of  your  generosity ;  "  and,  as  the  moralist 
ceased,  he  took  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  paper,  which  he 
handed  to  me  with  his  usual  bow  of  deference. 

I  glanced  over  it — it  was  a  bond,  apparently  drawn  up  in  all 
the  legal  formalities,  pledging  myself,  in  case  Job  Jonson,  be- 
fore the  expiration  of  three  days,  gave  that  information  which 
should  lead  to  detection  and  punishment  of  the  true  murderers 
of  Sir  John  Tyrrell,  deceased,  to  insure  to  the  said  Job  Jonson 
the  yearly  annuity  of  three  hundred  pounds. 

"  It  is  with  much  pleasure  that  I  shall  sign  this  paper,"  said 
I ;  "  but  allow  vc\e,  par  parejithese,  to  observe  that  since  you  only 
accept  the  annuity  for  the  sake  of  benefiting  your  little  family, 
in  case  of  your  death,  this  annuity,  ceasing  with  your  life,  will 
leave  your  children  as  penniless  as  at  present." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  honor,"  rejoined  Job,  not  a  whit  daunted  at 
the  truth  of  my  remark,  ^^J  can  msiife  !  " 

"  I  forgot  that,"  said  I,  signing  and  restoring  the  paper  :  *'  and 
now  to  business." 

Jonson  gravely  and  carefully  looked  over  the  interesting  docu- 
ment I  returned  to  him,  and  carefully  lapping  it  in  three  envel- 
opes, inserted  it  in  a  huge  red  pocket-book,  which  he  thrust  into 
an  innermost  pocket  in  his  waistcoat. 

"  Right,  sir,"  said  he  slowly;  "to  business.  Before  I  begin, 
you  must,  however,  promise  me,  upon  your  honor  as  a  gentle- 
man, the  strictest  secrecy  as  to  my  communications." 

I  readily  agreed  to  this,  so  far  as  that  secrecy  did  not  impede 
my  present  object ;  and  Job,  being  content  with  this  condition, 
resumed. 

"  You  must  forgive  me,  if,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  point  in 
question,  I  set  out  from  one  which  may  seem  to  you  a  little  dis- 
tant." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GEXTLEMAX.  357 

I  nodded  my  assent,  and  Job  continued. 

"  I  have  known  Dawson  for  some  years ;  my  acquaintance 
with  him  commenced  at  Newmarket,  for  I  have  always  had  a 
slight  tendency  to  the  turf.  He  was  a  wild,  foolish  fellow,  easily 
led  into  any  mischief,  but  ever  the  first  to  sneak  out  of  it ;  in 
short,  when  he  became  one  of  //j,  which  his  extravagance  soon 
compelled  him  to  do,  we  considered  him  as  a  very  serviceable 
tool,  but  one  who,  while  he  was  quite  wicked  enough  to  begin  a 
bad  action,  was  much  too  weak  to  go  through  with  it ;  accord- 
ingly he  was  often  employed,  but  never  trusted.  By  the  word  us, 
which  I  see  has  excited  your  curiosity,  I  merely  mean  a  body 
corporate,  established  furtively  and  restricted  solely  to  exploits 
on  the  turf.  I  think  it  right  to  mention  this  (continued  Mr.  Jon- 
son,  aristocratically),  because  I  have  the  honor  to  belong  to 
many  other  societies  to  which  Dawson  could  never  have  been 
admitted.  Well,  sir,  our  club  was  at  last  broken  up,  and  Daw- 
son was  left  to  shift  for  himself.  His  father  was  still  alive,  and 
the  young  hopeful,  having  quarrelled  with  him,  was  in  the  great- 
est distress.  He  came  to  me  with  a .  pitiful  stor}%  and  a  more 
pitiful  face  ;  so  I  took  compassion  upon  the  poor  devil,  and 
procured  him,  by  dint  of  great  interest,  admission  into  a  knot 
of  good  fellows,  whom  I  visited,  by  the  way,  last  night.  Here  I 
look  him  under  my  especial  care;  and,  as  far  as  I  could,  with 
such  a  dull-headed  dromedary,  taught  him  some  of  the  most  ele- 
gant arts  of  my  profession.  However,  the  ungrateful  dog  soon 
stole  back  to  his  old  courses,  and  robbed  me  of  half  my  share 
of  a  booty  to  which  I  had  helped  him  myself.  I  hate  treachery 
and  ingratitude,  your  honor ;  they  are  so  terribly  ungentleman- 
like! 

"  I  then  lost  sight  of  him  till  between  tw-o  and  three  months 
ago,  when  he  returned  to  town  and  attended  our  meetings  in 
company  with  Tom  Thornton,  who  had  been  chosen  a  member 
of  the  club  some  months  before.  Since  we  had  met,  Dawson's 
father  had  died,  and  I  thought  his  flash  appearance  in  town 
arose  from  his  new  inheritance.  I  was  mistaken  :  old  Dawson 
had  tied  up  the  property  so  tighdy,  that  the  young  one  could 
not  scrape  enough  to  pay  his  debts  ;  accordingly,  before  he  came 
to  town,  he  gave  up  his  life  interest  in  the  property  to  his  credit- 
ors. However  that  be.  Master  Dawson  seemed  at  the  top  of 
Fortune's  wheel.  He  kept  his  horses,  and  sported  the  set  to 
champagne  and  venison  :  in  short,  there  would  have  been  no 
end  to  his  extravagance,  had  not  Thornton  sucked  him  like  a 
leech. 

"It  was  about  that  time  that  I  asked  Dawson  for  a  trifle  to 


3S8  PELHAM;  OR, 

keep  me  from  gaol :  for  I  was  ill  in  bed,  and  could  not  help  myself. 
Will  you  believe,  sir,  that  the  rascal  told  me  to  go  and  be  d — d, 
and  'I'hornton  said  amen  ?  I  did  not  forget  the  ingratitude  of 
wvj  protege  \X\o\x^\  I  recovered  I  appeared  entirely  to  do  so.  No 
sooner  could  I  walk  about,  than  I  relieved  all  ray  necessities. 
He  is  but  a  fool  who  starves,  with  all  London  before  him  !  In 
proportion  as  my  finances  improved,  Dawson's  visibly  decayed. 
With  them,  decreased  also  his  spirits.  He  became  pensive  and 
downcast ;  never  joined  any  of  our  parties,  and  gradually  grew 
quite  a  useless  member  of  the  corporation.  To  add  to  his  mel- 
ancholy, he  was  one  morning  present  at  the  execution  of  an  un- 
fortunate associate  of  ours  ;  this  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
him  ;  from  that  moment  he  became  thoroughly  moody  and  de- 
spondent. He  was  frequently  heard  talking  to  himself,  could  not 
endure  to  be  left  alone  in  the  dark,  and  began  rapidly  to  pine 
away. 

"  One  night  when  he  and  I  were  seated  together,  he  asked 
me  if  I  had  never  repented  of  my  sins,  and  then  added,  with  a 
groan,  that  I  had  never  committed  the  heinous  crime  he  had.  I 
pressed  him  to  confess,  but  he  would  not.  However,  I  coupled 
that  half  avowal  with  his  sudden  riches,  and  the  mysterious  cir- 
cumstances of  Sir  John  Tyrrell's  death  ;  and  dark  suspicions 
came  into  my  mind.  At  that  time,  and  indeed  ever  since  Daw- 
son reappeared,  we  were  often  in  the  habit  of  discussing  the  no- 
torious murder  which  then  engrossed  public  attention ;  and  as 
Dawson  and  Thornton  had  been  witnesses  on  the  inquest,  we 
frequently  referred  to  them  respecting  it.  Dawson  always  turn- 
ed pale,  and  avoided  the  subject ;  Thornton,  on  the  contrary, 
brazened  it  out  with  his  usual  impudence.  Dawson's  aversion 
to  the  mention  of  the  murder  now  came  into  my  remembrance 
with  double  weight,  to  strengthen  my  suspicions ;  and,  convers- 
ing with  one  or  two  of  our  comrades,  I  found  that  my  doubts 
were  more  than  shared,  and  that  Dawson  had  frequently,  when 
unusually  oppressed  with  his  hypochondria,  hinted  at  his  commit- 
tal of  some  dreadful  crime,  and  at  his  increasing  remorse  for  it. 

"  By  degrees,  Dawson  grew  worse  and  worse — his  health  de- 
cayed, he  started  at  a  shadow — drank  deeply,  and  spoke,  in  his 
intoxication,  words  that  made  the  hairs  of  our  green  men  stand 
on  end. 

"  '  We  must  not  suffer  this,'  said  Thornton,  whose  hardy  effront- 
ery enabled  him  to  lord  it  over  the  jolly  boys  as  if  he  were  their 
chief  :  '  his  ravings  and  humdurgeon  will  unman  all  our  young- 
sters.' And  so,  under  this  pretence,  Thornton  had  the  unhappy 
man  conveyed  away  to  a  secret  asylum,  known  only  to  the  chiefs 


ADVENTURES  OE  A   GENTLEMAA'. 


359 


of  the  gang,  and  appropriated  to  the  reception  of  persons  who, 
from  the  same  weakness  as  Dawson,  were  hkely  to  endanger 
others  or  themselves.  There  many  a  poor  wretch  has  been  se- 
cretly immured,  and  never  suffered  to  revisit  the  light  of  Heaven. 
The  moon's  minions,  as  well  as  the  monarch's,  must  have  their 
State  prisoners,  and  their  State  victims. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  shall  not  detain  you  much  longer.  Last  night, 
after  your  obliging  confidence,  I  repaired  to  the  meeting ;  Thorn- 
ton was  there,  and  very  much  out  of  humor.  When  our  mess- 
mates dropped  off,  and  we  were  alone  at  one  corner  of  the  room, 
I  began  to  talk  to  him  carelessly  about  his  accusation  of  your 
friend,  w^ho,  I  have  since  learnt,  is  Sir  Reginald  Glanville — an 
old  friend  of  mine,  too ;  ay,  you  may  look,  sir, — but  I  can  stake 
my  life  to  having  picked  his  pocket  one  night  at  the  Opera  ! 
Thornton  was  greatly  surprised  at  my  early  intelligence  of  a 
fact  hitherto  kept  so  profound  a  secret ;  however,  I  explained 
it  away  by  a  boast  of  my  skill  in  acquiring  information ;  and  he 
then  incautiously  let  out,  that  he  was  exceedingly  vexed  with 
himself  for  the  charge  he  had  made  against  the  prisoner,  and 
very  uneasy  at  the  urgent  inquiries  set  on  foot  for  Dawson.  More 
and  more  convinced  of  his  guilt,  I  quitted  the  meeting  and  went 
to  Dawson's  retreat. 

"  For  fear  of  his  escape,  Thornton  had  had  him  closely  con- 
fined in  one  of  the  most  secret  rooms  in  the  house.  His  soli- 
tude and  the  darkness  of  the  place,  combined  with  his  remorse, 
had  worked  upon  a  mind,  never  too  strong,  almost  to  insanity. 
He  was  writhing  with  the  most  acute  and  morbid  pangs  of  con- 
science that  my  experience,  which  has  been  pretty  ample,  ever 
witnessed.  The  old  hag  who  is  the  Hecate  (you  see,  sir,  I  have 
had  a  classical  education)  of  the  place,  was  very  loath  to  admit 
me  to  him,  for  Thornton  had  bullied  her  into  a  great  fear  of  the 
consequences  of  disobeying  his  instructions  ;  but  she  did  not 
dare  to  resist  my  orders.  Accordingly  I  had  a  long  interview 
with  the  unfortunate  man ;  he  firmly  believes  that  Thornton  in- 
tends to  murder  him  ;  and  says,  that  if  he  could  escape  from  his 
dungeon,  he  would  surrender  himself  to  the  first  magistrate  he 
could  find. 

"  I  told  him  that  an  innocent  man  had  been  apprehended  for 
the  crime  of  which  I  knew  he  and  Thornton  were  guilty;  and 
then  taking  upon  myself  the  office  of  a  preacher,  I  exhorted  him 
to  atone,  as  far  as  possible,  for  his  past  crime,  by  a  full  and  faith- 
ful confession,  that  would  deliver  the  innocent  and  punish  the 
guilty.  I  held  out  to  him  the  hope  that  this  confession  might 
perhaps  serve  the  purpose  of  king's  evidence,  and  obtain  him  a 


J 


60  PELHAM :  OR, 


pardon  for  Iiis  crime  ;  and  I  promised  to  use  my  utmost  zeal  and 
diligence  to  promote  his  escape  from  his  present  den. 

"  He  said,  in  answer,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  live ;  that  he 
differed  the  greatest  tortures  of  mind  ;  and  that  the  only  com- 
fort earth  held  out  to  him  would  be  to  ease  his  remorse  by  a 
full  acknowledgment  of  his  crime,  and  to  hope  for  future  mercy 
by  expiating  his  offence  on  the  scaffold  ;  all  this,  and  much  more 
to  the  same  purpose,  the  hen-hearted  fellow  told  me  with  sighs 
and  groans.  I  would  fain  have  taken  his  confession  on  the 
spot,  and  carried  it  awav  with  me,  but  he  refused  to  give  it  to  me, 
or  to  any  one  but  a  parson,  whose  services  he  implored  me  to 
procure  him.  I  told  him,  at  first,  that  the  thing  was  impossible  ; 
but,  moved  by  his  distress  and  remorse,  I  promised,  at  last,  to 
bring  one  to-night,  who  should  both  administer  spiritual  comfort 
to  him  and  receive  his  deposition.  My  idea  at  the  moment  was 
to  wj'i'^/^  disguise  in  the  dress  oi\}i\^  pater  cove*  and  perform  the 
double  job  : — since  then  I  have  thought  of  a  better  scheme. 

"  As  my  character,  you  see,  your  honor,  is  not  so  highly  prized 
by  the  magistrates  as  it  ought  to  be,  any  confession  made  to  me 
might  not  be  of  the  same  value  as  if  it  were  made  to  any  one 
else — to  a  gentleman  like  you,  for  instance  ;  and,  moreover,  it 
will  not  do  for  me  to  appear  in  evidence  against  any  of  the 
fraternity  ;  and  for  two  reasons :  first,  because  I  have  sworn  a 
solemn  oath  never  to  do  so ;  and,  secondly,  because  I  have  a 
very  fair  chance  of  joining  Sir  John  Tyrrell  in  kingdom  come 
if  I  do.  My  present  plan,  therefore,  if  it  meets  your  concurrence, 
would  be  to  introduce  your  honour  as  the  parson,  and  for  you  to 
receive  the  confession,  which,  indeed,  you  might  take  down  in 
writing.  This  plan,  I  candidly  confess,  is  not  without  great 
difficulty,  and  some  danger ;  for  I  have  not  only  to  impose  you 
upon  Dawson  as  a  priest,  but  also  upon  Brimstone  Bess  as  one 
of  our  jolly  boys ;  since  I  need  not  tell  you  that  any  real  parson 
might  knock  a  long  time  at  her  door  before  it  would  be  opened 
to  him.  You  must,  therefore,  be  as  mum  as  a  mole  unless  she 
cants  to  you,  and  your  answers  must  then  be  such  as  I  shall  dic- 
tate ;  otherwise  she  may  detect  you,  and,  should  any  of  the  true 
men  be  in  the  house,  we  should  both  come  off  worse  than  we 
went  in." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Job,"  replied  I,  "  there  appears  to  me  to  be  a 
much  easier  plan  than  all  this  ;  and  that  is,  simply  to  tell  the  Bow- 
street  officers  where  Dawson  may  be  found,  and  I  think  they 

*  Gipsy  slang— a  parson,  or  minister— but  generally  applied  to  a  priest  of  the  low- 
est order. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN'.  361 

would  be  able  to  carry  him  awaj'  from  the  arms  of  Mrs.  Brimstone 
Bess,  without  any  great  difficulty  or  danger." 
Jonson  smiled. 

"  I  should  not  long  enjoy  my  annuity,  your  honor,  if  I  were  to 
set  the  runners  upon  our  best  hive.  I  should  be  stung  to  death 
before  the  week  were  out.  Even  you,  should  you  accompany  me 
to-night,  will  never  know  where  the  spot  is  situated,  nor  would 
you  discover  it  again  if  you  searched  all  London,  with  the  whole 
police  at  your  back.  Besides,  Dawson  is  not  the  only  person  in 
the  house  for  whom  the  law  is  hunting — there  are  a  score  others 
whom  I  have  no  desire  to  give  up  to  the  gallows — hid  among  the 
odds  and  ends  of  the  house,  as  snug,  as  plums  in  a  pudding. 
Honor  forbid  that  I  should  betray  them — and  for  nothing  too  ! 
No,  sir,  the  only  plan  I  can  think  of  is  the  one  I  proposed  ;  if 
you  do  not  approve  of  it,  (and  it  certainly  is  open  to  exception,) 
I  must  devise  some  other  :  but  that  may  require  delay." 

"  No,  my  good  Job,"  replied  I,  "  I  am  ready  to  attend  you  : 
but  could  we  not  manage  to  release  Dawson,  as  well  as  take  his 
deposition  ? — his  personal  evidence  is  worth  all  the  written  ones 
in  the  world." 

"  Very  true,"  answered  Job,  "  and  if  it  be  possible  to  give  Bess 
the  slip  we  will.  However,  let  us  not  lose  what  we  may  get  by 
grasping  at  what  we  may  not ;  let  us  have  the  confession  first, 
and  we'll  try  for  the  release  afterwards.  I  have  another  reason 
for  this,  sir,  which,  if  you  knew  as  much  of  penitent  prigs  as  I 
do,  you  would  easily  understand.  However,  it  may  be  explained 
by  the  old  proverb  of  'the  devil  was  sick,'  etc.,  As  long  as 
Dawson  is  stowed  away  in  a  dark  hole  and  fancies  devils  in  every 
corner,  he  may  be  very  anxious  to  make  confessions,  which,  in 
broad  day-light,  may  not  seem  to  him  so  desirable.  Darkness 
and  solitude  are  strange  stimulants  to  the  conscience,  and  we 
may  as  well  not  lose  any  advantage  they  give  us." 

"  You  are  an  admirable  reasoner,"  cried  1,  "  and  I  am  impatient 
to  accompany  you — at  what  hour  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Not  much  before  midnight,"  answered  Jonson  ;  "  but  your 
honor  must  go  back  to  school  and  learn  lessons  before  then. 
Suppose  Bess  were  to  address  you  thus  :  '  Well,  you  parish  bull 
prig,  are  you  for  lushing  lackey,  or  pattering  in  the  hum  box  !  '"* 
I'll  be  bound  you  would  not  know  how  to  answer." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  Mr.  Jonson,"  said  I,  in  a  tone  of 
self-humiliation. 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  the  compassionate  Job,  "  we  are  all 
born   ignorant — knowledge  is  not  learnt  in   a  day.     A  few  of 

♦  "  Well,  you  parson  thief,  are  you  for  drinking  gin,  or  talking  in  the  pulpit  ?  " 


362  PELHAM;  OK, 

the  most  common  and  necessary  words  in  our  St.  Giles's  Greek, 
I  shall  be  able  to  teach  you  before  night ;  and  I  will,  beforehand, 
prepare  the  old  lady  for  seeing  a  young  hand  in  the  profession. 
As  I  must  disguise  you  before  we  go,  and  that  cannot  well  be 
done  here,  suppose  you  dine  with  me.  at  my  lodgings." 

"  I  shall  be  too  happy,"  said  I,  not  a  little  surprised  at  the 
offer. 

"  I  am  in  Charlotte  street,  Bloomsbury,  No.  — .  You  must  ask 
for  me  by  the  name  of  Captain  De  Courcy,"  said  Job,  with 
dignity:  "and  we'll  dine  at  five,  in  order  to  have  time  for  your 
preliminary  initiation." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  I ;  and  Mr.  Job  Jonson  then  rose, 
and,  reminding  me  of  my  promise  of  secrecy,  took  his  depar- 
ture. 


CHAPTER  LXXXI. 

Pectus  praeceptis  format  amicis. — Hor. 
Est  quodam  prodire  tenus,  si  non  datur  ultra. — Ibid. 

With  all  my  love  of  enterprise  and  adventure,  I  cannot  say  that 
I  should  have  particularly  chosen  the  project  before  me  for  my 
evening's  amusement,  had  I  been  left  solely  to  my  own  will ; 
but  Glanville's  situation  forbade  me  to  think  of  self  :  and,  so  far 
from  shrinking  at  the  danger  to  which  I  was  about  to  be  expos- 
ed, I  looked  forward  with  the  utmost  impatience  to  the  hour  of 
rejoining  Jonson_ 

There  was  yet  a  long  time  upon  my  hands  before  five  o'clock; 
and  the  thought  of  Ellen  left  me  no  doubt  how  it  should  be 
passed.  I  went  to  Berkeley-square  :  Lady  Glanville  rose  eagerly 
when  I  entered  the  drawing-room. 

"  Have  you  seen  Reginald  1 "  said  she,  "  or  do  you  know 
where  he  has  gone  ?  " 

I  answered,  carelessly,  that  he  had  left  town  for  a  few  days, 
and,  I  believe,  merely  upon  a  vague  excursion,  for  the  benefit 
of  the  country  air. 

"  You  reassure  us,"  said  Lady  Glanville  ;  "  we  have  been 
quite  alarmed  by  Seymour's  manner.  He  appeared  so  confused 
when  he  told  us  Reginald  had  left  town,  that  I  really  thought 
some  accident  had  happened  to  him." 

I  sate  myself  by  Ellen,  who  appeared  wholly  occupied  in  the 
formation  of  a  purse.  While  I  was  whispering  into  her  eat 
words  which  brought  a  thousand  blushes  to  her  cheek,  Ladj 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  363 

Glanville  interrupted  me,  by  an  exclamation  of  "  have  you  seen 
the  papers  to-day,  Mr.  Pelham  ? "  and  on  my  reply  in  the  nega- 
tive, she  pointed^to  an  article  in  the  Morning  Herald,  which  she 
said  had  occupied  their  conjectures  all  the  morning — it  ran 
thus : — 

"  The  evening  before  last,  a  person  of  rank  and  celebrity  was 

privately  carried  before  the  Magistrate  at .     Since  then,  he 

has  undergone  an  examination,  the  nature  of  which,  as  well  as 
the  name  of  the  individual,  is  as  yet  kept  a  profound  secret." 

I  believe  that  I  have  so  firm  a  command  over  my  countenance 
that  I  should  not  change  tint  nor  muscle  to  hear  of  the  greatest 
calamity  that  could  happen  to  me.  I  did  not  therefore  betray  a 
single  one  of  the  emotions  this  paragraph  excited  within  me, 
but  appeared,  on  the  contrary,  as  much  at  a  loss  as  Lady  Glan- 
ville, and  wondered  and  guessed  with  her,  till  she  remembered 
my  present  situation  in  the  family,  and  left  me  alone  with  Ellen. 

Why  should  the  tete-a-tetc  of  lovers  be  so  uninteresting  to  the 
world,  when  there  is  scarcely  a  being  in  it  who  has  not  loved  ? 
The  expressions  of  every  other  feeling  come  home  to  us  all — 
the  expressions  of  love  weary  and  fatigue  us.  But  the  interview 
of  that  morning  was  far  from  resembling  those  delicious  meet- 
ings which  the  history  of  love  at  that  early  period  of  its  existence 
so  often  delineates.  I  could  not  give  myself  up  to  happiness 
which  a  moment  might  destroy  :  and  though  I  veiled  my  anxiety 
and  coldness  from  Ellen,  I  felt  it  as  a  crime  to  indulge  even  the 
appearance  of  transport,  while  Glanville  lay  alone  and  in  prison, 
with  the  charge  of  murder  yet  uncontroverted,  and  the  chances 
of  its  doom  undiminished. 

The  clock  had  struck  four  before  I  left  Ellen,  and  without  re- 
turning to  my  hotel,  I  threw  myself  into  a  hackney-coach,  and 
drove  to  Charlotte-street.  The  worthy  Job  received  me  with 
his  wonted  dignity  and  ease  ;  his  lodgings  consisted  of  a  first  floor, 
furnished  according  to  all  the  notions  of  Bloomsbury  elegance — 
viz.,  new,  glaring  Brussels  carpeting ;  convex  mirrors,  with 
massy  gilt  frames,  and  eagles  at  the  summit ;  rosewood  chairs 
with  chintz  cushions  ;  bright  grates,  with  a  flower-pot,  cut  out  of, 
yellow  paper,  in  each  ;  in  short,  all  that  especial  neatness  of  up- 
holstering paraphernalia,  which  Vincent  used,  not  inaptly,  to  des- 
ignate by  the  title  of  "the  tea-chest  taste."  Jonson  seemed  not 
a  little  proud  of  his  apartments — accordingly,  I  complimented 
him  upon  their  elegance. 

"  Under  the  rose  be  it  spoken,"  said  he,  "  the  landlady,  wlio 
is  a  widow,  believes  me  to  be  an  officer  on  half-pay,  and  thinks  I 
wish  to  marry  her,  poor  woman!    my  black    locks  and  green 


364  PELHAM ;  OR, 

coat  have  a  witchery  that  surprises  even  me  :  who  would  be  a 
slovenly  thief,  when  there  are  such  advantages  in  being  a  smart 
one  ?  " 

"  Right,  Mr.  Jonson  !  "  said  I ;  "  but  shall  I  own  to  you  that 
I  am  surprised  that  a  gentleman  of  your  talents  should  stoop  to 
the  lower  arts  of  the  profession.  I  always  imagined  that  pocket- 
picking  was  a  part  of  your  business  left  only  to  the  plebeian  pur- 
loiner ;  now  I  know,  to  my  cost,  that  you  do  not  disdain  that 
manual  accomplishment." 

"  Your  honor  speaks  like  a  judge,"  answered  Job  ;  "  the  fact 
is,  that  I  should  despise  what  you  rightly  designate  'the  lower 
arts  of  the  profession,'  if  I  did  not  value  myself  upon  giving 
them  a  charm,  and  investing  them  with  a  dignity,  never  bestow- 
ed upon  them  before.  To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  superior  dex- 
terity with  which  I  manage  my  sleight  of  hand,  know,  that  four 
times  I  have  been  in  that  shop  where  you  saw  me  borj-ow  the 
diamond  ring,  which  you  now  remark  upon  my  little  finger; 
and  four  times  have  I  brought  back  some  token  of  my  visita- 
tions ;  nay,  the  shopman  is  so  far  from  suspecting  me,  that  he 
has  twice  favored  me  with  the  piteous  tale  of  the  very  losses  I 
myself  brought  upon  him;  and  I  make  no  doubt  that  I  shall 
hear,  in  a  few  days,  the  whole  history  of  the  departed  diamond, 
now  in  my  keeping,  coupled  with  that  oi  your  honor' s  appear- 
ance and  custom  }  Allow  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  suffer  pride 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  the  talents  with  which  Providence  has 
blessed  me  ;  to  scorn  the  little  delicacies  of  art,  which  I  execute 
so  well,  would,  in  my  opinion,  be  as  absurd  as  for  an  epic 
poet  to  disdain  the  composition  of  a  perfect  epigram,  or  a  con- 
summate musician  the  melody  of  a  faultless  song." 

"  Bravo  !  Mr.  Job,"  said  I ;  "a  truly  great  man,  you  see,  can 
confer  honor  upon  trifles."  More  I  might  have  said,  but  was 
stopped  short  by  the  entrance  of  the  landlady,  who  was  a  fine, 
fair,  well-dressed,  comely  woman,  of  about  thirty -nine  years  and 
eleven  months ;  or,  to  speak  less  precisely,  between  thirty  and 
forty.  She  came  to  announce  that  dinner  was  served  below. 
We  descended,  and  found  a  sumptuous  repast  of  roast  beef  and 
fish  ;  this  primary  course  was  succeeded  by  that  great  dainty 
with  common  people — a  duck  and  green  peas. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Jonson,"  said  I,  "  you  fare  like  a  prince  ; 
your  weekly  expenditure  must  be  pretty  considerable  for  a  single 
gentleman." 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Jonson,  with  an  air  of  lordly  in- 
difference— "  I  have  never  paid  my  good  hostess  any  coin  but 
compliments,  and  in  all  probability  never  shall," 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  365 

Was  there  ever  a  better  illustration  of  Moore's  admonition — 
'  O  ladies,  beware  of  a  gay  young  knight,'  &c. 

After  dinner  we  remounted  to  the  apartments  Job  emphatically 
called  his  own ;  and  he  then  proceeded  to  initiate  me  in  those 
phrases  of  the  noble  language  of  "  Flash  "  which  might  best 
serve  my  necessities  on  the  approaching  occasion.  The  slang 
part  of  my  Cambridge  education  had  made  me  acquainted  with 
some  little  elementary  knowledge,  which  rendered  Jonson's 
precepts  less  strange  and  abstruse.  In  this  lecture  "  sweet  and 
holy,"  the  hours  passed  away  till  it  became  time  for  me  to  dress. 
Mr.  Jonson  then  took  me  into  the  penetralia  of  his  bed-room. 
1  stumbled  against  an  enormous  trunk.  On  hearing  the  involun- 
tary anathema  which  this  accident  conjured  up  to  my  lips, 
Jonson  said — "  Ah,  sir  ! — do  oblige  me  by  trying  to  move  that 
box." 

I  did  so,  but  could  not  stir  it  an  inch. 

"  Your  honor  never  saw  di  Jewel  box  so  heavy  before,  I  think," 
said  Jonson,  with  a  smile. 

"  A  jewel  box  !  " 

"Yes,"  returned  Jonson — "  a  jewel  box,  for  it  is  full  oi  pre- 
cious stones  !  When  I  go  away — not  a  little  in  my  good  land- 
lady's books — I  shall  desire  her,  very  importantly,  to  take  the 
greatest  care  of  '  my  box.'  Egad  !  it  would  be  a  treasure  to 
MacAdam  ;  he  might  pound  its  flinty  contents  into  a  street." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Jonson  unlocked  a  wardrobe  in  the 
room,  and  produced  a  full  suit  of  rusty  black. 

"  There  !  "  said  he,  with  an  air  of  satisfaction — "  there  !  this 
will  be  your  first  step  to  the  pulpit." 

I  doffed  my  own  attire,  and  with  "  some  natural  sighs  "  at  the 
deformity  of  my  approaching  metamorphosis,  I  slowly  indued 
myself  in  the  clerical  garments  ;  they  were  much  too  wide,  and 
a  little  too  short  for  me  ;  but  Jonson  turned  me  round  as  if  I 
were  his  eldest  son,  breeched  for  the  first  time,  and  declared, 
with  an  emphatical  oath,  that  the  clothes  fitted  me  to  a  hair. 

My  host  next  opened  a  tin  dressing-box  of  large  dimensions, 
from  which  he  took  sundry  powders,  lotions,  and  paints.  Noth- 
ing but  my  extreme  friendship  for  Glanville  could  ever  have  sup- 
ported me  through  the  operation  I  then  underwent.  My  poor 
complexion,  thought  I,  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  it  is  ruined  for- 
ever !  To  crown  all — Jonson  robbed  me,  by  four  clips  of  his  scis- 
sors, of  the  luxuriant  locks  which,  from  the  pampered  in- 
dulgence so  long  accorded  to  them,  might  have  rebelled  against 


366  PELHAM;  OR, 

the  new  dynasty  which  Jonson  now  elected  to  the  crown.  This 
dynasty  consisted  of  a  shaggy  but  admirably  made  wig,  of  a 
sandy  color.  When  thus  completely  attired  from  head  to  foot, 
Job  displayed  me  to  myself  before  a  full-length  looking-glass. 

Had  I  gazed  at  the  reflection  forever,  I  should  not  have  recog- 
nized either  my  form  or  visage.  I  thought  my  soul  had  under- 
gone a  real  transmigration,  and  not  carried  to  its  new  body  a 
particle  of  the  original  one.  What  appeared  the  most  singular 
was,  that  I  did  not  seem  even  to  myself  at  all  a  ridiculous  or 
oiitre  figure ;  so  admirably  had  the  skill  of  Mr.  Jonson  been  em- 
ployed. I  overwhelmed  him  with  encomiums,  which  he  took 
au piea  de  la  lettre.  Never,  indeed,  was  there  a  man  so  vain  of 
being  a  rogue. 

"  But,"  said  I,  why  this  disguise  ?  Your  friends  will,  proba- 
bly, be  well  versed  enough  in  the  mysteries  of  metamorphosis, 
to  see  even  through  your  arts ;  and,  as  they  have  never  beheld 
me  before,  it  would  very  little   matter  if  I  went  xw  propria  per- 


^    5  J 

sotia. 


"  True,"  answered  Job,  "  but  you  don't  reflect  that  without 
disguise  you  may  hereafter  be  recognized  ;  our  friends  walk  in 
Bond-street  as  well  as  your  honor;  and,  in  that  case,  you  might 
be  shot  without  a  second,  as  the  saying  is." 

"  You  have  convinced  me,  said  I ;  "  and  now,  before  we  start, 
let  me  say  one  word  further  respecting  our  o/?/'ect.  I  tell  you, 
fairly,  that  I  think  Dawson's  written  deposition  but  a  secondaiy 
point :  and  for  this  reason,  should  it  not  be  supported  by  any  «>- 
cumstantial  or  local  evidence,  hereafter  to  be  ascertained,  it  may 
be  quite  insufficient  fully  to  acquit  Glanville  (in  spite  of  all  ap- 
pearances), and  criminate  the  real  murderers.  If,  therefore,  it 
h^  possible  to  carry  off  Dawson,  after  having  secured  his  confes- 
sion, we  must.  I  think  it  right  to  insist  more  particularly  on 
this  point,  as  you  appeared  to  me  rather  averse  to  it  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  I  say  ditto  to  your  honor,"  returned  Job  ;  *'  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  I  shall  do  all  in  my  power  to  effect  your  object,  not 
only  from  that  love  of  virtue  which  is  implanted  in  my  mind, 
when  no  stronger  inducement  leads  me  astray,  but  from  the  more 
worldly  reminiscence,  that  the  annuity  we  have  agreed  upon  is 
only  to  be  given  in  case  of  success — not  merely  for  7vell-mcaning 
attempts.  To  say  that  I  have  no  objection  to  the  release  of  Daw- 
son, would  be  to  deceive  your  honor, — I  own  that  I  have, — and 
the  objection  is,  first,  my  fear  lest  he  shovXA peach  respecting  other 
affairs  besides  the  murder  of  Sir  John  Tyrrell ;  and,  secondly, 
my  scruples  as  to  appearing  to  interfere  with  his  escape.     Both 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEiMAM.  367 

of  these  chances  expose  me  to  great  danger ;  however,  one  does 
not  get  three  hundred  a-year  for  washing  one's  hands,  and  I  must 
balance  the  one  against  the  other." 

"  You  are  a  sensible  man,  Mr.  Job,"  said  I,  "  and  I  am  sure 
you  will  richly  earn  and  long  enjoy  your  annuity." 

As  I  said  this,  the  watchman  beneath  our  window  called 
"  past  eleven  !  "  and  Jonson,  starting  up,  hastily  changed  his 
own  gay  gear  for  a  more  simple  dress,  and  throwing  over  all  a 
Scotch  plaid,  gave  me  a  similar  one,  in  which  I  closely  wrapped 
myself.  We  decended  the  stairs  softly,  and  Jonson  let  us  out 
into  the  street  by  the  "  open  sesame"  of  a  key  which  he  retained 
about  his  person. 


CHAPTER  LXXXII. 

Et  cantare  pares,  et  respondere  parati. — ViRGiL. 

As  we  walked  on  into  Tottenham-court-road,  where  we  ex- 
pected to  find  a  hackney-coach,  my  companion  earnestly  and 
strenuously  impressed  on  my  mind  the  necessity  of  implicitly 
obeying  any  instructions  or  hints  he  might  give  me  in  the 
course  of  our  adventure.  "  Remember,"  said  he,  forcibly, 
"  that  theJeast  deviation  from  them  will  not  only  defeat  our  ob- 
ject of  removing  Dawson,  but  even  expose  our  lives  to  the  most 
imminent  peril."  I  faithfully  promised  to  conform  to  the  mi- 
nutest tittle  of  his  instructions. 

We  came  to  a  stand  of  coaches.  Jonson  selected  one,  and 
gave  the  coachman  an  order  ;  he  took  care  it  should  not  reach 
my  ears.  During  the  half-hour  we  passed  in  this  vehicle,  Job 
examined  and  re-examined  me  in  my  "  canting  catechism,"  as  he 
termed  it.  He  expressed  himself  much  pleased  with  the  quick- 
ness of  my  parts,  and  honored  me  with  an  assurance  that  in  less 
than  three  months  he  would  engage  to  make  me  as  complete  a 
rufiler  as  ever  nailed  a  swell. 

To  this  gratifying  compliment  I  made  the  best  return  in  my 
power. 

"You  must  not  suppose,"  said  Jonson,  some  minutes  after- 
wards, "  from  our  use  of  this  language,  that  our  club  consists  of 
the  lower  order  of  thieves — quite  the  contrary  ;  we  are  a  knot  of 
gentlemen  adventurers  who  wear  the  best  clothes,  ride  the  best 
hacks,  frequent  the  best  gaming-houses  as  well  as  the  ^enteelest 
haunts,  and  sometimes  k&cp  the  ^rsi  company,  in  London.  We 
arc  limited  in  number :  we  have  nothing  in  common  with  ordi 


36S  PELHAM;  OK, 

nary  prigs,  and  should  my  own  little  private  amusements  (as  yon 
appropriately  term  them)  be  known  in  the  set,  I  should  have  a 
very  fair  chance  of  being  expelled  for  ungcntle?nanlike  practices. 
We  rarely,  condescend  to  speak  "  flash  "  to  each  other  in  our 
ordinary  meetings,  but  we  find  it  necessary  for  many  shifts  to 
which  fortune  sometimes  drives  us.  The  house  you  are  going 
this  night  to  visit,  is  a  sort  of  colony  we  have  established  for 
whatever  persons  amongst  us  are  in  danger  of  blood-money.* 
There  they  sometimes  lie  concealed  for  weeks  together,  and  are 
at  last  shipped  off  for  the  continent,  or  enter  the  world  under  a 
new  alias.  To  this  refuge  of  the  distressed  we  also  send  any  of 
the  mess  who,  like  Dawson,  are  troubled  with  qualms  of  con- 
science which  are  likely  to  endanger  the  commonwealth:  there 
they  remain,  as  in  a  hospital,  till  death  or  a  cure  ;  in  short,  we 
jDut  the  house,  like  its  inmates,  to  any  purposes  likely  to  frus- 
trate our  enemies  and  serve  ourselves.  Old  Brimstone  Bess,  to 
whom  I  shall  introduce  you,  is,  as  I  before  said,  the  guardian  of 
the  place ;  and  the  language  that  respectable  lady  chiefly  in- 
dulges in,  is  the  one  into  which  you  have  just  acquired  so  good 
an  insight.  Partly  in  compliment  to  her,  and  partly  from  in- 
clination, the  dialect  adopted  in  her  house  is  almost  entirely 
'  flash  !  '  and  you,  therefore,  perceive  the  necessity  of  appearing 
not  utterly  ignorant  of  a  tongue  which  is  not  only  the  language 
of  the  country,  but  one  with  which  no  true  boy,  however  high  in 
his  profession,  is  ever  unacquainted." 

By  the  time  Jonson  had  finished  this  speech,  the  coach 
stopped — I  looked  eagerly  out  of  the  window — Jonson  ob- 
sen'ed  the  motion  :  "  We  have  not  got  half-way  yet,  your  honor," 
said  he.  We  left  the  coach,  which  Jonson  requested  me  to  pay, 
and  walked  on. 

"Tell  me  frankly,  sir,"  said  Job,  "do  you  know  where  you 
are  ? " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  repled  I,  looking  wistfully  up  a  long,  dull, 
ill-lighted  street. 

Job  rolled  his  sinister  eye  towards  me  with  a  searching  look, 
and  then  turning  abruptly  to  the  right,  penetrated  into  a  sort  of 
co\'ered  lane,  or  court,  which  terminated  in  an  alley,  that  brought 
us  suddenly  to  a  stand  of  three  coaches  ;  one  of  these  Job  hailed 
— we  entered  it — a  secret  direction  was  given,  and  we  drove 
furiously  on,  faster  than  I  should  think  the  crazy  body  of  hack- 
ney chariot  ever  drove  before.  I  observed  that  we  had  now 
entered  a  part  of  the  town  which  was  singularly  strange  to  me ; 
the  houses  were  old,  and  for  the  most  part  of  the  meanest  de- 

*  Rewards  for  the  apprehension  of  thieves,  etc. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  369 

(fcription ;  we  appeared  to  me  to  be  threading  a  labyrinth  of 
alleys  ;  once,  I  imagined  that  I  caught,  through  a  sudden  open- 
ing, agUmpseof  the  river,  but  we  passed  so  rapidly,  that  my 
eye  might  have  deceived  me.  At  length  we  stopped :  the 
coachman  was  again  dismissed,  and  I  again  walked  onwards, 
under  the  guidance  and  almost  at  the  mercy  of  my  honest  con> 
panion. 

Jonson  did  not  address  me — he  was  silent  and  absorbed,  and 
I  had  therefore  full  leisure  to  consider  my  present  situation. 
Though  (thanks  to  my  physical  constitution)  I  am  as  callous  to 
fear  as  most  men,  a  few  chilling  apprehensions  certainly  fiitted 
across  my  mind,  when  I  looked  round  at  the  dim  and  dreary 
sheds — houses  they  were  not — which  were  on  either  side  of  our 
path  ;  only,  here  and  there,  a  single  lamp  shed  a  sickly  light 
upon  the  dismal  and  intersecting  lanes  (though  lane  is  to  lofty 
a  word),  through  which  our  footsteps  woke  a  solitary  sound. 
Sometimes  this  feeble  light  was  altogether  wiihheld,  and  1 
could  scarcely  catch  even  the  outline  of  my  companion's  mus- 
cular frame.  However,  he  strode  on  through  the  darkness  with 
the  mechanical  rapidity  of  one  to  whom  every  stone  is  familiar. 
I  listened  eagerly  for  the  sound  of  the  watchman's  voice ; — in 
vain — that  note  was  never  heard  in  those  desolate  recesses. 
My  ear  drank  in  nothing  but  the  sound  of  our  ov/n  footsteps,  or 
the  occasional  burst  of  obscene  and  unholy  merriment  from 
some  half-closed  hovel,  where  Infamy  and  Vice  were  holding 
revels.  Now  and  then,  a  wretched  thing,  in  the  vilest  extreme 
of  want,  and  loathsomeness,  and  rags,  loitered  by  the  unfrequent 
lamps,  and  interrupted  our  progress  with  solicitations  which 
made  my  blood  run  cold.  By  degrees  even  these  tokens  of  life 
ceased — the  last  lamp  was  entirely  shut  from  our  view — we  were 
in  utter  darkness. 

"We  are  near  our  journey's  end  now,"  whispered  Jonson. 

At  these  words  a  thousand  unwelcome  reflections  forced  them- 
selves involuntarily  on  my  mind  :  I  was  about  to  plunge  into 
the  most  secret  retreat  of  men  whom  long  habits  of  villany  and 
desperate  abandonment  had  hardened  into  a  nature  which  had 
scarcely  a  sympathy  with  my  own  ;  unarmed  and  defenceless,  I 
was  about  to  penetrate  a  concealment  upon  which  their  lives 
perhaps  depended  ;  what  could  I  anticipate  from  their  vengeance, 
but  the  sure  hand  and  the  deadly  knife,  wliich  their  self-preser- 
vation would  more  tlian  justify  to  such  lawless  reasoners  ?  And 
who  was  my  companion  ?  One  who  literally  gloried  in  the  per- 
fection of  his  nefarious  practices  ;  and  who,  if  he  had  stopped 
short  of  the  worst  enormities,   seemed   neither  to  disown   the 


370  PEI.HAM;  OR, 

principle  upon  which  they  were  committed,  nor  to  balance  for  a 
a  moment  between  his  interest  and  his  conscience. 

Nor  did  he  attempt  to  conceal  from  me  the  danger  to  which  I 
was  exposed  ;  much  as  his  daring  habits  of  life,  and  the  good 
fortune  which  had  attended  him,  must  have  hardened  his  nerves, 
even  he  seemed  fully  sensible  of  the  peril  he  incurred — a  peril 
certainly  considerably  less  than  that  which  attended  /^z^. temerity. 
Bitterly  did  I  repent,  as  these  reflections  rapidly  passed  mv 
mind,  my  negligence  in  not  providing  myself  with  a  single  weapon 
in  case  of  need;  the  worst  pang  of  death  is  the  falling  without 
a  struggle. 

However,  it  was  no  moment  for  the  indulgence  of  fear ;  it 
was  rather  one  of  those  eventful  periods  which  so  rarely  occur 
in  the  monotony  of  common  life,  when  our  minds  are  sounded 
to  their  utmost  depths  :  and  energies,  of  which  we  dreamt  not 
when  at  rest  in  their  secret  retreats,  arise  like  spirits  at  the  sum- 
mons of  the  wizard,  and  bring  to  the  invoking  mind  an  unlooked- 
for  and  preternatural  aid. 

There  was  something  too  in  the  disposition  of  my  guide,  which 
gave  me  a  confidence  in  him,  not  warranted  by  the  occupations 
of  his  life  ;  an  easy  and  frank  boldness,  an  ingenuous  vanity  of 
abilities,  skilfully,  though  dishonestly  exerted,  which  had  noth- 
ing of  the  meanness  and  mystery  of  an  ordinary  villian,  and 
which  being  equally  prominent  with  the  rascality  they  adorned, 
prevented  the  attention  from  dwelling  upon  the  darker  shades 
of  his  character.  Besides,  I  had  so  closely  entwined  his  inter- 
est with  my  own,  that  I  felt  there  could  be  no  possible  ground 
either  for  suspecting  him  of  any  deceit  towards  me,  or  of  omit- 
ting any  art  or  exertion  which  could  conduce  to  our  mutual 
safety  or  our  common  end. 

Forcing  myself  to  dwell  solely  upon  the  more  encouraging 
side  of  the  enterprise  I  had  undertaken,  I  continued  to  move 
on  with  my  worthy  comrade,  silent  and  in  darkness,  for  some 
minues  longer — Jonson  then  halted. 

"  Are  you  quite  prepared,  sir  ?  "  said  he,  in  a  whisper  :  "  if 
your  heart  fails,  in  Heaven's  name  let  us  turn  back  :  the  least 
evident  terror  will  be  as  much  as  your  life  is  worth." 

My  thoughts  were  upon  Reginald  and  Ellen,  as  I  replied — 

"  You  have  told  and  convinced  me  that  I  may  trust  in  you,  and 
I  have  no  fears ;  m}'  present  object  is  one  as  strong  to  me  as 
life." 

"  I  would  we  had  a  ^//;/z,"  rejoined  Job,  musingly ;  "  1  should 
like  to  see  your  face  ;  but  will  you  give  me  your  hand,  sir  .-* " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  371 

"  I  did,  and  Jonson  held  it  in  his  own  for  more  than  a  min- 
ute. 

"  'Fore  Gad,  sir,  said  he  at  last,  "  I  would  you  were  one  of 
us.  You  would  live  a  brave  man,  and  die  a  game  one.  Your 
pulse  is  like  iron  ;  and  your  hand  does  not  sway — no — not  so 
much  as  to  wave  a  dove's  feather  :  it  would  be  a  burning  shame 
if  harm  came  to  so  stout  a  heart."  Job  moved  on  a  few  steps. 
"  Now,  sir,"  he  whispered,  "  remember  your  flash ;  do  exactly 
as  I  may  have  occasion  to  tell  you  ;  and  be  sure  to  sit  away 
from  the  light,  should  we  be  in  company." 

With  these  words  he  stopped.  By  the  touch  (for  it  was  too 
dark  to  see,)  I  felt  that  he  was  bending  down,  apparently  in  a 
listening  attitude  ;  presently  he  tapped  five  times  at  what  I  sup- 
posed was  the  door,  though  I  afterwards  discovered  it  was  the 
shutter  to  the  window ;  upon  this,  a  faint  light  broke  through 
the  crevices  of  the  boards,  and  a  low  voice  uttered  some  sound, 
which  my  ear  did  not  catch.  Job  replied  in  the  same  key,  and 
in  words  which  were  perfectly  unintelligible  to  me  ;  the  light  dis- 
appeared ;  Job  moved  round,  as  if  turning  a  corner.  I  heard 
the  heavy  bolts  and  bars  of  a  door  slowly  withdrawn ;  and  in  a 
few  moments,  a  harsh  voice  said,  in  the  thieves'  dialect — 

"  Ruffling  Job,  my  prince  of  prigs,  is  that  you  .-'  are  you  come 
to  the  ken  alone,  or  do  you  carry  double  ? " 

"  Ah,  Bess,  my  covess,  strike  me  blind  if  my  sees  don't  tout 
your  bingo  muns  in  spite  of  the  darkmans.  Egad,  you  carry  a 
bene  blink  aloft.  Come  to  the  ken  alone — no  !  my  blowen  ; 
did  not  I  tell  you  I  should  bring  a  pater  cove,  to  chop  up  the 
whiners  for  Dawson  ?  "  * 

"  Stubble  it,  you  ben,  you  deserve  to  cly  the  jerk  for  your 
patter  ;  come  in,  and  be  d — d  to  you."  f 

Upon  this  invitation,  Jonson,  seizing  me  by  the  arm  pushed 
me  into  the  house,  and  followed.  "  Go  for  a  glim,  Bess,  to  light 
in  the  black  'un  with  proper  respect.  I'll  close  the  gig  of  the 
crib." 

At  this  order,  delivered  in  an  authoritative  tone,  the  old 
woman,  mumbling  "strange  oaths "  to  herself,  moved  away; 
when  she  was  out  of  hearing.  Job  whispered, 

"  Mark,  I  shall  leave  the  bolts  undrawn  ;  the  door  opens  with 
a  lalcli,  which  you  press  thus — do  not  forget  the  spring;  it  is 
easy,  but  peculiar  ;  should  you  be  forced  to  run  for  it,  you  will 

♦"Strike  me  blind  if  my  eyes  don't  see  your  brandy  face  in  spite  of  the  nipfht 
Come  to  the  house  alone— no  !  my  woman  ;  did  I  not  tell  you  I  should  bring  a  parson-* 
to  say  j>rayers  for  Dawson  ?  " 


y  i>r 
Ho: 


Id  your  tongue,  fool,  you  deserve  to  be  whipped  for  your  chatter." 


372  PELHAM;  OR, 

also  remember,  above  all,  when  you  are  out  of  the  door,  to  turn 
fo  the  right,  and  go  straight  forwards." 

The  old  woman  now  reappeared  with  a  light,  and  Jonson 
ceased,  and  moved  hastily  towards  her:  I  followed.  The  old 
woman  asked  whether  the  door  had  been  carefully  closed,  and 
Jonson,  with  an  oath  at  her  doubts  of  such  a  matter,  answered 
in  the  affirmative. 

We  proceeded  onwards,  through  a  long  and  very  narrow  pas- 
sage, till  Bess  opened  a  small  door  to  the  right,  and  introduced 
us  into  a  large  room,  which,  to  my  great  dismay,  I  found  already 
occupied  by  four  men,  who  were  sitting,  half  immersed  in  smoke, 
by  an  oak  table,  with  a  capacious  bowl  of  hot  liquor  before 
them.  At  the  back-ground  of  this  room,  which  resembled  the 
kitchen  of  a  public-house,  was  an  enormous  screen,  of  antique 
fashion  ;  a  low  fire  burnt  in  the  grate,  and  beside  it  was  one  of 
those  high-backed  chairs  seen  frequently  in  old  houses  and  old 
pictures.  A  clock  stood  in  one  corner,  and  in  the  opposite 
nook  was  a  flight  of  narrow  stairs,  which  led  downwards,  proba- 
bly to  a  cellar.  On  a  row  of  shelves  were  various  bottles  of  the 
different  liquors  generally  in  request  among  the  "  flash  "  of  the 
gentry,  together  with  an  old-fashioned  fiddle,  two  bridles,  and 
some  strange  looking  tools,  probably  of  more  use  to  true  boys 
than  to  honest  men. 

Brimstone  Bess  was  a  woman  about  the  middle  size,  but  with 
bones  and  sinews  which  would  not  have  disgraced  a  prize- 
fighcer  ;  a  cap,  that  might  have  been  cleaner,  was  rather  thrown 
than  put  on  the  back  of  her  head,  developing,  to  full  advantage, 
the  few  scanty  locks  of  grizzled  ebon  which  adorned  her  counte- 
nance. Her  eyes,  large,  black,  and  prominent,  sparkled  with  a 
fire  half  vivacious,  half  vixen.  The  nasal  feature  was  broad  and 
fungous,  and,  as  well  as  the  whole  of  her  capacious  physiognomy, 
blushed  with  the  deepest  scarlet  :  it  was  evident  to  see  that 
many  a  full  bottle  of  "  British  compounds  "  had  contributed  to 
the  feeding  of  that  burning  and  phosphoric  illumination,  which 
was  indeed,  "  the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  an  inward  and 
spiritual  grace." 

The  expression  of  the  countenance  was  not  wholly  bad. 
Amidst  the  deep  traces  of  searing  vice  and  unrestrained  passion 
— amidst  all  that  was  bold  and  unfeminine,  and  fierce  and  crafty, 
there  was  a  latent  look  of  coarse  good-humor,  a  twinkle  of  the 
eye  that  bespoke  a  tendency  to  drollery,  an  upward  curve  of  the 
lip  that  showed,  however  the  human  creature  might  be  debased, 
it  still  cherished  its  grand  characteristic — the  propensity  to 
laughter. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  373 

The  garb  of  this  Dame  Leonarda  was  by  no  means  of  that 
humble  nature  which  one  might  have  supposed.  A  gown  of 
crimson  silk,  flounced  and  furbelowed  to  the  knees,  was  taste- 
fully relieved  by  a  bright  yellow  shawl ;  and  a  pair  of  heavy 
pendants  glittered  in  her  ears,  which  were  of  the  size  proper  to 
receive  "  the  big  words  "  they  were  in  the  habit  of  hearing. 
Probably  this  finery  had  its  origin  in  the  policy  of  her  guests, 
who  had  seen  enough  of  life  to  know  that  age,  which  tames  all 
other  passions,  never  tames  the  passion  of  dress  in  a  woman's 
heart. 

No  sooner  did  the  four  revellers  set  their  eyes  upon  me  than 
they  all  rose. 

"  Zounds,  Bess  !  "  cried  the  tallest  of  them,  "  what  cull's  this  ? 
Is  this  a  bowsing  ken  for  every  cove  to  shove  his  trunk  in  ?  " 

"  What  ho,  my  kiddy  ?  "  cried  Job,  "  don't  be  glimflashy  :  why 
you'd  cry  beef  on  a  blater ;  *  the  cove  is  a  bob  cull,  and  a  pal 
of  my  own  ;  and  moreover,  is  as  pretty  a  Tyburn  blossom  as 
■ever  was  brought  up  to  ride  a  horse  foaled  by  an  acorn." 

Upon  this  commendatory  introduction  I  was  forthwith  sur- 
rounded, and  one  of  the  four  proposed  that  I  should  be  immedi- 
ately "  elected." 

This  motion,  which  was  probably  no  gratifying  ceremony,  Job 
negatived  with  a  dictatorial  air,  and  reminded  his  comrades  that 
however  thev  micht  find  it  convenient  to  lower  themselves  occa- 
sionally,  yet  that  they  were  gentlemen  sharpers,  and  not  vulgar 
cracksmen  and  clyfakers,  and  that,  therefore,  they  ought  to  wel- 
come me  with  the  good  breeding  appropriate  to  their  station. 

Upon  this  hint,  which  was  received  with  mingled  laughter  and 
deference,  (for  Job  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  might  among  these 
Philistines,)  the  tallest  of  the  set,  who  bore  the  euphonious 
appellation  of  Spider-shanks,  politely  asked  me  if  I  would 
"  blow  a  cloud  with  him  !  "  and  upon  my  assent,  (for  I  thought 
such  an  occupation  would  be  the  best  excuse  for  siler.ce,)  he 
presented  me  with  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  to  which  Dame  Brimstone 
applied  a  light,  and  I  soon  lent  my  best  endeavors  to  darken 
still  farther  the  atmosphere  around  us. 

Mr.  Job  Jonson  then  began  artfully  to  turn  the  conversation 
away  from  me  to  the  elder  confederates  of  his  crew  ;  these 
were  all  spoken  of  under  certain  singular  appellations  which 
might  well  baffle  impertinent  curiosity.  The  name  of  one  was 
"the  Gimlet,"  another,  "  Crack  Crib,"  a  third,  "the  Magician," 
a  fourth,  "  Cherry-colored  Jowl."     The  tallest  of  the   present 

*  "  Don't  be  angry  !    Why  you'J  cry  bcqf  on  a  calf — the  man  is  a  good  fellow,  and  a 
comrade  of  my  own,"  etc. 


374  PELBAM;  OR, 

company  was  called  (as  I  before  said)  "  Spider-shanks,"  and 
the  shortest,  "  Fib  Fakescrew ;  "  Job  himself  was  honored  by 
the  venerabile  nomcn  of  "  Guinea  Pig."  At  last  Job  explained 
the  cause  of  my  appearance  ;  viz.,  his  wish  to  pacify  Dawson's 
conscience  by  dressing  up  one  of  the  pals,  whom  the  sinner 
could  not  recognize,  as  an  "  autem  bawler,"  and  so  obtaining 
him  the  benefit  of  the  clergy  without  endangering  the  gang  by 
his  confession.  This  detail  was  received  with  great  good 
humor,  and  Job,  watching  his  opportunity,  soon  after  rose,  and, 
turning  to  me,  said — 

"  Toddle,  my  bob  cull — we  must  track  up  the  dancers  and 
tout  the  sinner."  * 

I  wanted  no  other  hint  to  leave  my  present  situation. 

"  The  ruffian  cly  thee,  Guinea  Pig,  for  stashing  the  lash,"  t 
said  Spider-shanks,  helping  himself  out  of  the  bowl,  which  was 
nearly  empty. 

"  Stash  the  lush  !  "  %  cried  Mrs.  Brimstone,  "  a}^  and  toddle 
off  to  Ruggins.  Why,  you  would  not  be  boosing  till  lightman's 
in  a  square  crib  like  mine,  as  if  you  were  in  a  flash  panny  !  " 

"  That's  bang  up,  mort !  "  cried  Fib.  "  A  square  crib,  in- 
deed !  ay,  square  as  Mr.  Newman's  court-yard — ding-boys  on 
three  sides,  and  the  crap  on  the  fourth  !  "  § 

This  characteristic  witticism  was  received  with  great  applause  ; 
and  J  on  son,  taking  a  candlestick  from  the  fair  fingers  of  the 
exasperated  Mrs.  Brimstone,  the  hand  thus  conveniently  re- 
leased immediately  transferred  itself  to  Fib's  cheeks,  with  so 
hearty  a  concussion  that  it  almost  brought  the  rash  jester  to  the 
ground.  Jonson  and  I  lost  not  a  moment  in  taking  advantage 
of  the  confusion  this  gentle  remonstrance  appeared  to  occasion ; 
but  instantly  left  the  room  and  closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIII. 

'Tis  true  that  we  are  in  great  danger ; 
The  greater,  therefore,  should  our  courage  be. 

Shakspeare. 

We  proceeded  a  short  way,  when  we  were  stopped  by  a  door 5 
this  Job  opened,  and  a  narrow  staircase,  lighted  from  above  by 

*  "  Move,  my  good  fellow,  we  must  go  up  stairs,  and  look  at  the  sinner." 

+  "  The  devil  take  thee,  for  stopping  the  drink." 

X  "  Stop  the  drink,  ay,  and  be  off  to  bed.  You  would  not  be  drinking  till  day— in  an 
honest  house  like  mine,  as  if  you  were  in  a  disreputable  place  ! " 

§  "  That's  capital.  A  square  crib  (honest  house)  !  Ay,  square  as  Newgate  coach' 
yard — ro^'ues  on  three  sides,  and  the  gallows  on  the  fourth." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  375 

a  dim  lamp,  was  before  us.  We  ascended,  and  found  ourselves 
in  a  sort  of  gallery :  here  hung  another  lamp,  beneath  which 
Job  opened  a  closet. 

"  This  is  the  place  where  Bess  generally  leaves  the  keys," 
said  he  ;  "we  shall  find  them  here,  I  hope." 

So  saying.  Master  Job  entered,  leaving  me  in  the  passage ; 
but  soon  returned  with  a  disappointed  air. 

"The  old  haridan  has  left  them  below,"  said  he  ;  "I  must 
go  down  for  them  ;  your  honor  will  wait  here  till  I  return." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  honest  Job  immediately  de- 
scended, leaving  me  alone  with  my  own  reflections.  Just  opposite 
to  the  closet  was  the'  door  of  some  apartment ;  I  leant  accident- 
ally against  it ;  it  was  only  ajar,  and  gave  way;  the  ordinary 
consequence  in  such  accidents  is  a  certain  precipitation  from 
the  centre  of  gravity.  I  am  not  exempt  from  the  general  lot, 
and  accordingly  entered  \\\t  room  in  a  manner  entirely  contrary 
to  that  which  my  natural  inclination  would  have  prompted  me 
to  adopt.  My  ear  was  accosted  by  a  faint  voice,  which  pro^ 
ceeded  from  a  bed  at  the  opposite  corner :  it  asked,  in  the 
thieves'  dialect,  and  in  the  feeble  accents  of  bodily  weakness,  who 
was  there  ?  I  did  not  judge  it  necessary  to  make  any  reply 
but  was  withdrawing  as  gently  as  possible,  when  my  eye  rested 
upon  a  table  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  upon  which,  among  two  or 
three  miscellaneous  articles,  were  deposited  a  brace  of  pistols, 
and  one  of  those  admirable  swords, made  according  to  the  mod- 
ern military  regulation,  for  the  united  purpose  of  cut  and  thrust. 
The  light  which  unabled  me  to  discover  the  contents  of  tha 
room,  proceeded  from  a  rush-light  placed  in  the  grate ;  thia 
general  symptom  of  a  valetudinarian,  together  with  some  othei 
little  odd  matters  (combined  with  the  weak  voice  of  the  speaker), 
impressed  me  with  the  idea  of  having  intruded  into  the  chamber 
of  some  sick  member  of  the  crew.  Kmbolded  by  this  notion, 
and  by  perceiving  that  the  curtains  were  drawn  closely  around 
the  bed,  so  that  the  inmate  could  have  optical  discernment  of 
nothing  that  occurred  without,  1  could  not  resist  taking  two 
soft  steps  to  the  table,  and  quietly  removing  a  weapon,  whose 
bright  face  seemed  to  invite  me  as  a  long-known  and  long-tried 
friend. 

This  was  not,  however,  done  in  so  noiseless  a  manner,  but 
what  the  voice  again  addressed  me,  in  a  somewhat  louder  key, 
by  the  appellation  of  "  Brimstone  Ikss,"  asking,  with  sundry 
oaths,  "what  was  the  matter?"  and  reciuesting  something  to 
drink.  I  need  scarcely  say  that,  as  before,  I  made  no  reply, 
but  crept  out  of  the   room  as  gently  as  possible,  blessing  my 


376  PELHAM;  OR, 

good  fortune  for  having  thrown  into  my  way  a  weapon  with  the 
use  of  which,  above  all  others,  I  was  acquainted.  Scarcely  had 
I  regained  the  passage,  before  Jonson  reappeared  with  the  keys  ; 
I  showed  him  my  treasure  (for  indeed  it  was  of  no  size  to  con- 
ceal). 

"  Are  you  mad,  sir?  "  said  he,  "  or  do  you  think  that  the  best 
way  to  avoid  suspicion  is  to  walk  about  with  a  drawn  sword  in 
your  hand.''  I  would  not  have  Bess  see  you  for  the  best  dia- 
mond I  ever  borrowed^  With  these  words  Job  took  the  sword 
from  my  reluctant  hand. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  "  said  he. 

I  explained  in  a  whisper,  and  Job,  reopening  the  door  I  had 
so  unceremoniously  entered,  laid  the  weapon  softly  on  a  chair 
that  stood  within  reach.  The  sick  man,  whose  senses  were  of 
course  rendered  doubly  acute  by  illness,  once  more  demanded, 
in  a  fretful  tone,  who  was  there  !  And  Job  replied,  in  the  flash 
language,  that  Bess  had  sent  him  up  to  look  for  her  keys,  which 
she  imagined  she  had  left  there.  The  invalid  rejoined  by  a 
request  to  Jonson  to  reach  him  a  draught,  and  we  had  to  under- 
go a  further  delay  until  his  petition  was  complied  with ;  we 
then  proceeded  up  the  passage  till  we  came  to  another  flight  of 
steps,  which  led  to  a  door  ;  Job  opened  it,  and  we  entered  a 
room  of  no  common  dimensions. 

"  This,"  said  he,  "  is  Bess  Brimstone's  sleeping  apartment ; 
whoever  goes  into  the  passage  that  leads  not  only  to  Dawson's 
room  but  to  the  several  other  chambers  occupied  by  such  of  the 
gang  as  require  particular  care,  must  pass  first  through  this 
room.  You  see  that  bell  by  the  bedside — I  assure  you  it  is  no 
ordinary  tintinnabulum  ;  it  communicates  with  every  sleeping 
apartment  in  the  house,  and  is  only  rung  in  cases  of  great  alarm, 
when  every  boy  must  look  well  to  himself  ;  there  are  two  more 
of  this  description,  one  in  the  room  which  we  have  just  left, 
another  in  the  one  occupied  by  Spider-shanks,  who  is  our  watch- 
dog, and  keeps  his  kennel  below.  Those  steps  in  the  common 
room,  which  seem  to  lead  to  a  cellar,  conduct  to  his  den.  As 
we  shall  have  to  come  back  through  this  room,  you  see  the  diffi- 
culty of  smuggling  Dawson — and  if  the  old  dame  rung  the 
alarm,  the  whole  hive  would  be  out  in  a  moment." 

After  this  speech,  Job  led  me  from  the  room  by  a  door  at  the 
opposite  end,  which  showed  us  a  passage  similar  in  extent  and 
fashion  to  the  one  we  had  left  below  ;  at  the  very  extremity  of 
this  was  the  entrance  to  an  apartment,  at  which  Jonson  stopped. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  small  paper  book 
and  an  irjk-horn  ;  "  here,  your  honor,  take  these,  you  ma_y  want 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAIV.  377 

to  note  the  heads  of  Dawson's  confession  ;  we  are  now  at  his 
door."  Job  then  applied  one  of  the  keys  of  a  tolerably  sized 
bunch  to  the  door,  and  the  next  moment  we  were  in  Dawson's 
apartment. 

The  room,  which,  though  low  and  narrow,  was  of  considerable 
length,  was  in  utter  darkness,  and  the  dim  and  flickering  light 
which  Jonson  held  only  struggled  with,  rather  than  penetrated 
the  thick  gloom.  About  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  bed, 
and  sitting  upright  on  it,  with  a  wan  and  hollow  countenance, 
bent  eagerly  towards  us,  was  a  meagre,  attenuated  figure.  My 
recollection  of  Dawson,  whom,  it  will  be  remembered,  I  had  only 
seen  once  before,  was  extremely  faint,  but  it  had  impressed  me 
with  the  idea  of  a  middle-sized  and  rather  athletic  man,  with  a 
fair  and  florid  complexion  :  the  creature  I  now  saw  was  totally 
the  reverse  of  this  idea.  His  cheeks  were  yellow  and  drawn  in  : 
his  hand,  which  was  raised  in  the  act  of  holding  aside  the  cur- 
tains, was  like  the  talons  of  a  famished  vulture,  so  thin  was  it,  so 
long,  so  withered  in  its  hue  and  texture. 

No  sooner  did  the  advancing  light  allow  him  to  see  us  dis- 
tinctly, than  he  half  sprung  from  the  bed  and  cried,  in  that  pecu- 
'iar  tone  of  joy  which  seems  to  throw  off  from  the  breast  a  suffo- 
;ating  weight  of  previous  terror  and  suspense,  "  Thank  God, 
thank  god  !  it  is  you  at  last ;  and  you  have  brought  the  clergy- 
man— rGod  bless  you,  Jonson  ;   you  are  a  true  friend  to  me." 

"  Cheer  up,  Dawson,"  said  Job  ;  "  I  have  smuggled  in  this 
worthy  gentleman,  who,  I  have  no  doubt,  will  be  of  great  com- 
fort to  you — but  you  must  be  open  with  him,  and  tell  all." 

"That  I  v.'ill — that  I  will,"  cried  Dawson,  with  a  wild  and 
vindictive  expression  of  countenance — "  if  it  be  only  to  hang  hi7n. 
Here,  Jonson,  give  me  your  hand,  bring  the  light  nearer — I  say, 
— ht\  the  devil — the  fiend — has  been  here  to-day  and  threatened 
to  murder  me  ;  and  I  have  listened,  and  listened,  all  night,  and 
thought  I  heard  his  step  along  the  passage,  and  up  the  stairs, 
and  at  the  door;  but  it  was  nothing.  Job,  nothing — and  you  are 
come  at  last,  good,  kind,  worthy  Job.  Oh  !  'tis  so  horrible  to  be 
left  in  the  the  dark,  and  not  sleep — and  in  this  large,  large  room, 
which  looks  like  eternity  at  night — and  one  does  fancy  such 
sights.  Job — such  horrid,  horrid  sights.  Feel  my  wristband, 
Jonson,  and  here  at  my  back,  you  would  think  they  had  been 
pouring  water  over  me,  but  it's  only  the  cold  sweat.  Oh  !  'tis  a 
fearful  thing  to  have  a  bad  conscience.  Job;  but  you  won't  leave 
me  till  daylight,  now,  that's  a  dear,  good  Job !  " 

"  For  shame,  Dawson,"  said  Jonson  ;  "  pluck  up,  and  be  a 
man  ;  you  are  like  a  baby  frightened  by  its  nurse.     Here's   the 


378  PELIIAM;  OR, 

clergj'man  come  to  heal  your  poor  wounded  conscience ;  will 
you  hear  him  7um>  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Dawson,  "yes  ! — but  go  out  of  the  room — I  can't 
tell  all  if  you're  here  ;  go,  Job,  go  ! — but  you're  not  angry  with 
me  ? — I  don't  mean  to  offend  you." 

"  Angry  !  "  said  Job  ;  "  Lord  help  the  poor  fellow  !  no,  to  be 
sure  not.  I'll  stay  outside  the  door  till  you've  done  with  the 
clergyman — but  make  haste,  for  the  night's  almost  over,  and  it's 
as  much  as  the  parson's  life  is  worth  to  stay  here  after  day- 
break." 

"  I  2C'i7l  make  haste,"  said  the  guilty  man,  tremulously  ;  "  but 
Job,  where  are  you  going — what  are  you  doing  ?  leave  the  light ! 
/ie?'e,  Job,  by  the  bedside." 

Job  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  quitting  the  room,  leaving  the 
door  not  so  firmly  shut  but  that  he  might  hear,  if  the  penitent 
spoke  aloud,  every  particular  of  his  confession. 

I  seated  myself  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  taking  the  skeleton 
hand  of  the  unhappy  man,  spoke  to  him  in  the  most  consolatory 
and  comforting  words  I  could  summon  to  my  assistance.  He 
seemed  greatly  soothed  by  my  efforts,  and  at  last  implored  me  to 
let  him  join  me  in  prayer.  I  knelt  down,  and  my  lips  readily 
found  words  for  that  language,  which,  whatever  be  the  formula 
of  our  faith,  seems,  in  all  emotions  which  come  home  to  our 
hearts,  the  most  natural  method  of  expressing  them.  It  is  here, 
by  the  bed  of  sickness  or  remorse,  that  the  ministers  of  God 
have  their  real  power !  it  is  here  that  their  ofhce  is  indeed  a  di- 
vine and  unearthly  mission  ;  and  that,  in  breathing  balm  and  com- 
fort, in  healing  the  broken  heart,  in  raising  the  crushed  and  de- 
graded spirit,  they  are  the  voice  and  oracle  of  the  FATHER, 
who  made  us  in  benevolence,  and  will  judge  us  in  mercy  !  I 
rose,  and  after  a  short  pause,  Dawson,  who  expressed  himself 
impatient  for  the  comfort  of  confession,  thus  began — 

"  I  have  no  time,  sir,  to  speak  of  the  earlier  part  of  my  life. 
I  passed  it  upon  the  race-course  and  at  the  gaming-table — all 
that  was,  I  know,  very  wrong  and  wicked  ;  but  I  was  a  wild,  idle 
boy,  and  eager  for  anything  like  enterprise  or  mischief.  Well, 
sir,  it  is  now  more  than  three  years  ago  since  I  first  met  with  one 
Tom  Thornton ;  it  was  at  a  boxing  match.  Tom  was  chosen 
chairman,  at  a  sort  of  club  of  the  farmers  and  yeomen  ;  and  be- 
ing a  lively,  amusing  fellow,  and  accustomed  to  the  company  of 
gentlemen,  was  a  great  favorite  with  all  of  us.  He  was  very  civil 
to  me,  and  I  was  quite  pleased  with  his  notice.  I  did  not,  how- 
ever, see  much  of  him  then,  nor  for  more  than  two  years  after- 
wards ;  but  some  months  ago  we  met  again.     I  was  in  very  poor 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  379 

circumstances,  so  was  he,  and  this  made  us  closer  friends  than 
we  might  otherwise  have  been.  He  lived  a  great  deal  at  the 
gambling-houses,  and  fancied  he  had  discovered  a  certain  method 
of  winning*  at  hazard.  So,  whenever  he  could  not  find  a  gentle- 
man whom  he  could  cheat  with  false  dice,  tricks  at  cards,  etc., 
he  would  go  into  any  hell  to  try  his  infallible  game.  I  did  not, 
however,  perceive  that  he  made  a  good  living  by  it :  and  though 
sometimes,  either  by  that  method  or  some  other,  he  had  large 
sums  of  money  in  his  possession,  yet  they  were  spent  as  soon  as 
acquired.  The  fact  was,  that  he  was  not  a  man  that  could  ever 
grow  rich ;  he  was  extremely  extravagant  in  all  things — loved 
women  and  drinking,  and  was  always  striving  to  get  into  the 
society  of  people  above  him.  In  order  to  do  this,  he  affected 
great  carelessness  of  money  ;  and  if,  at  a  race  or  a  cock-fight, 
any  real  gentlemen  would  go  home  with  him,  he  would  insist 
upon  treating  them  to  the  best  of  everything. 

"  Thus,  sir,  he  was  always  poor,  and  at  his  wits'  end  for 
means  to  supply  his  extravagance.  He  introduced  me  to  three 
or  ionr  gentlemen,  zs  he  called  them,  but  whom  I  have  since 
found  to  be  markers,  sharpers,  and  blacklegs;  and  this  set  soon 
dissipated  the  little  honesty  my  own  habits  of  life  had  left  me. 
They  never  spoke  of  things  by  their  right  names ;  and,  there- 
fore, those  things  never  seemed  so  bad  as  they  really  were — to 
swindle  a  gentleman  did  not  sound  a  crime  when  it  was  called 
'  macing  a  swell,' — nor  transportation  a  punishment,  when  it 
was  termed,  with  a  laugh,  '  lagging  a  cove.'  Thus,  insensibly, 
my  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  always  obscure,  became  perfectly 
confused  ;  and  the  habit  of  treating  all  crimes  as  subjects  of 
jest  in  familiar  conversation,  soon  made  me  regard  them  as 
matters  of  very  trifling  importance. 

"  Well,  sir,  at  Newmarket  races,  this  Spring  meeting,  Thorn- 
ton and  I  were  on  the  look  out.  He  had  come  down  to  stay, 
during  the  races,  at  a  house  I  had  just  inherited  from  my  father, 
but  which  was  rather  an  expense  to  me  than  an  advantage  ; 
especially  as  my  wife,  who  was  an  innkeeper's  daughter,  was 
very  careless  and  extravagant.  It  so  happened  that  we  were 
both  taken  in  by  a  jockey,  whom  we  had  bribed  very  largel}', 
and  were  losers  to  a  very  considerable  amount.  Among  other 
people,  I  lost  to  a  Sir  John  Tyrrell.  I  expressed  my  vexation 
to  Thornton,  who  told  me  not  to  mind  it,  but  to  tell  Sir  John 
that  I  would  pay  him  if  he  came  to  the  town  ;  and  that  he  was 
quite  sure  we  could  win  enough,  by  his  certain  game  at  hazard, 
to  pay  off  my  debt.     He  was  so  very  urgent,  that  I  allowed  my 

♦  A  very  common  delusion,  bot]i_;»nonK  sliarpcrs  and  their  prey. 


38o  PELHAM;  OR, 

self  to  be  persuaded  ;  though  Thornton  has  shice  told  me  that 
his  only  motive  was  to  prevent  Sir  John's  going  to  the  Marquess 
of  Chester's  (where  he  was  invited)  with  my  lord's  party  ;  and 
so  to  have  an  opportunity  of  accomplishing  the  crime  he  then 
meditated. 

"  Accordingly,  as  Thornton  desired,  I  asked  Sir  John  Tyrrell 
to  come  with  me  to  Newmarket.  He  did  so.  I  left  him,  joined 
Thornton,  and  went  to  the  gambling-house.  Here  we  were 
engaged  in  Thornton's  sure  game,  when  Sir  John  entered.  I 
went  up  and  apologized  for  not  paying,  and  said  I  would  pay 
him  in  three  months.  However,  Sir  John  was  very  angry,  and 
treated  me  with  such  rudeness,  that  the  whole  table  remarked 
it.  When  he  was  gone,  I  told  Thornton  how  hurt  and  indignant 
I  was  at  Sir  John's  treatment.  He  incensed  me  still  more — 
exaggerated  Sir  John's  conduct — said  that  I  had  suffered  the 
grossest  insult;  and  at  last  put  me  into  such  a  passion,  that  I 
said  that  if  I  was  a  gentleman,  I  would  fight  Sir  John  Tyrrell 
across  the  table. 

"  When  Thornton  saw  I  was  so  moved,  he  took  me  out  of 
the  room,  and  carried  me  to  an  inn.  Here  he  ordered  dinner, 
and  several  bottles  of  wine.  I  never  could  bear  much  drink  : 
he  knewTliis,  and  artfully  plied  me  with  wine  till  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  did  or  said.  He  then  talked  much  of  our  destitute  sit- 
uation— affected  to  put  himself  out  of  the  question — said  he  was 
a  single  man,  and  could  easily  make  shift  upon  a  potato — but 
that  I  was  encumbered  with  a  wife  and  child,  whom  I  could  not 
suffer  to  starve.  He  then  said,  that  Sir  John  Tyrrell  had  pub- 
licly disgraced  me — that  I  should  be  blown  upon  the  course — 
that  no  gentleman  would  bet  with  me  again,  and  a  great  deal 
more  of  the  same  sort.  Seeing  what  an  effect  he  had  produced 
upon  me,  he  then  told  me  that  he  had  seen  Sir  John  receive  a 
large  sum  of  money,  which  would  more  than  pay  our  debts,  and 
set  us  up  like  gentlemen,  and,  at  last,  he  proposed  to  me  to  rob 
him.  Intoxicated  as  I  was,  I  was  somewhat  startled  at  this 
proposition.  However,  the  slang  terms  in  which  Thornton 
disguised  the  greatness  and  danger  of  the  offence,  veiy  much 
diminished  both  in  my  eyes — so  at  length  I  consented. 

"  We  went  to  Sir  John's  inn,  and  learnt  that  he  had  just  set 
out :  accordingly  we  mounted  our  horses  and  rode  after  him. 
The  night  had  already  closed  in.  After  we  had  got  some  dis- 
tance from  the  main  road,  into  a  lane,  which  led  both  to  my 
house  and  Chester  Park — for  the  former  was  on  the  direct  way 
to  my  lord's — we  passed  a  man  on  horseback.  I  only  observed 
that  he  was  wrapped  in  a   cloak — but  Thornton  said,  directly 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  381 

we  had  passed  him,  '  I  know  that  man  well — he  has  been  follow- 
ing Tyrrell  all  day — and  though  he  attempts  to  screen  himself, 
I  have  penetrated  his  disguise  : — he  is  Tyrrell's  mortal  enemy.' 

'"Should  the  worst  come  to  the  worst,'  added  Thornton 
(words  which  I  did  not  at  that  moment  understand),  '  we  can 
make  him  bear  the  blame.' 

"  When  we  got  some  way  further,  we  came  up  to  Tyrrell  and 
a  gentleman  whom,  to  our  great  dismay,  we  found  that  Sir 
John  had  joined — the  gentleman's  horse  had  met  with  an  acci- 
dent, and  Thornton  dismounted  to  offer  his  assistance.  He 
assured  the  gentleman,  who  proved  afterwards  to  be  a  Mr. 
Pelham,  that  the  horse  was  quite  lame  and  that  he  would  scarcely 
be  able  to  get  it  home ;  and  he  then  proposed  to  Sir  John  to 
accompany  us,  and  said  that  we  would  put  him  in  the  right  road  ; 
this  offer  Sir  John  rejected  very  haughtily,  and  we  rode  on. 

" '  It's  all  up  with  us,'  said  I ;  '  since  he  has  joined  another 
person.' 

"  '  Not  at  all,'  replied  Thornton  ;  '  for  I  managed  to  give  the 
horse  a  sly  poke  with  my  knife ;  and  if  I  know  anything  of  Sir 
John  Tyrrell,  he  is  much  too  impatient  a  spark  to  crawl  along  a 
snail's  pace  with  any  companion,  especially  with  this  heavy 
shower  coming  on.' 

"  But,'  said  I,  for  I  now  began  to  recover  from  my  intoxica- 
tion, and  to  be  sensible  of  the  nature  of  our  undertaking,  '  the 
moon  is  up,  and  unless  this  shower  conceals  it  Sir  John  will  rec- 
ognize us ;  so  you  see,  even  if  he  leave  the  gentleman,  it  will  be 
no  use,  and  we  had  better  make  haste  home  and  go  to  bed.' 

"  Upon  this,  Thornton  cursed  me  for  a  faint-hearted  fellow, 
and  said  that  the  cloud  would  etfectually  hide  the  moon — or,  if 
not — he  added — 'I  know  how  to  silence  a  prating  tongue.'  ^t 
these  words  I  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  said,  that  if  he  meditated 
murder  as  well  as  robbery,  I  would  have  nothing  farther  to  do 
with  it.  Thornton  laughed,  and  told  me  not  to  be  a  fool.  While 
we  were  thus  debating,  a  heavy  shower  came  on  ;  we  rode  hastily 
to  a  large  tree  by  the  side  of  a  pond,  which,  though  bare  and 
withered,  was  the  nearest  shelter  the  country  afforded,  and  was 
only  a  very  short  distance  from  my  house.  I  wished  to  go  home,  but 
Thornton  would  not  let  me  ;  and  as  I  was  always  in  the  habit  of 
yielding,  I  remained  with  him,  though  very  reluctantly,  under  the 
tree. 

"  Presently,  we  heard  the  trampling  of  a  horse. 

'*'It  is  he — it  is  he,'  cried  Thornton,  with  a  savage  tone  of 
exultation,  '  and  alone  !  — He  ready — we  must  make  a  rush — I 
will  be  the  one  to  bid  him  to  deliver — you  hold  your  tongue.* 


382  PELHAM;  OR, 

"  The  clouds  and  rain  had  so  overcast  the  night,  that,  aUhough 
it  was  vs.o'i  perfectly  dark,  it  was  sufficiently  obscure  to  screen  our 
countenances.  Just  as  Tyrrell  approched  Thornton  dashed  for- 
ward, and  cried,  in  a  feigned  voice — '  Stand,  on  your  peril  ! '  I 
followed,  and  we  were  now  both  by  Sir  John's  side. 

"  He  attempted  to  push  by  us — but  Thornton  seized  him  by 
the  arm — there  was  a  stout  struggle,  in  which  as  yet  I  had  no 
share  ;  at  last,  Tyrrell  got  loose  from  Thornton,  and  I  seized 
him — he  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  which  was  a  very  spirited  and 
strong  animal — it  reared  upwards  and  very  nearly  brought  me 
and  my  horse  to  the  ground — at  that  instant,  Thornton  struck 
the  unfortunate  man  a  violent  blow  across  the  head  with  the 
butt-end  of  his  heavy  whip — Sir  John's  hat  had  fallen  before  in 
the  struggle,  and  the  blow  was  so  stunning  that  it  felled  him  upon 
the  spot.  Thornton  dismounted,  and  made  me  do  the  same — • 
'There  is  no  time  to  lose,'  said  he  ;  '  let  us  drag  him  from  the 
roadside,  and  rifle  him.'  We  accordingly  carried  him  (he  was  still 
senseless)  to  the  side  of  the  pond  before  mentioned.  While  we 
were  searching  for  the  money  Thornton  spoke  of,  the  storm 
ceased  and  the  moon  broke  out — we  were  detained  some  mo- 
ments by  the  accident  of  Tyrrell's  having  transferred  his  pocket- 
book  from  the  pocket  Thornton  had  seen  him  put  it  in  on  the 
race-ground  to  an  inner  one. 

"  We  had  just  discovered  and  seized  the  pocket-book,  when  Sir 
John  awoke  from  his  swoon,  and  his  eyes  opened  upon  Thornton, 
who  was  still  bending  over  him,  and  looking  at  the  contents  of 
the  book  to  see  that  all  was  right ;  the  moonlight  left  Tyrrell  in 
no  doubt  as  to  our  persons  ;  and  struggling  hard  to  get  up,  he 
cried,  '  I  know  you  !  I  know  you  !  you  shall  hang  for  this.'  No 
sooner  had  he  uttered  this  imprudence,  than  it  was  all  over  with 
him.  '  We  will  see  that.  Sir  John,'  said  Thornton,  setting  his 
knee  upon  Tyrrell's  chest,  and  nailing  him  down.  While  thus 
employed,  he  told  me  to  feel  in  his  coat-pocket  for  a  case-knife. 

"  '  For  God's  sake,'  cried  Tyrrell,  with  a  tone  of  agonizing  ter- 
ror which  haunts  me  still,  '  sjjare  my  life  ! ' 

"  '  It  is  too  late,'  said  Thornton,  deliberately,  and  taking  the 
knife  from  my  hands,  he  plunged  it  into  Sir  John's  side,  and  as 
the  blade  was  too  short  to  reach  the  vitals,  Thornton  drew  it 
backwards  and  forwards  to  widen  the  wound.  Tyrrell  was  a 
strong  man,  and  still  continued  to  struggle  and  call  out  for  mercy 
• — Thornton  drew  out  the  knife — Tyrrell  seized  it  by  the  blade, 
and  his  fingers  were  cut  through  before  Thornton  could  snatch 
it  from  his  grasp ;  the  wretched  gentleman  then  saw  all  hope 
was  over  :  he  uttered  one  loud,  sharp  cry  of  despair.     Thornton 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN:  383 

put  one  hand  to  his  mouth,  and  with  the  other  gashed  his  throat 
from  ear  to  ear. 

"  '  You  have  done  for  him  and  for  us  now,'  said  I,  as  Thornton 
slowly  rose  from  the  body.  'No,'  replied  he,  '  lool:,  he  still 
moves  ; '  and  sure  enough  he  did,  but  it  was  in  the  last  agony. 
However,  Thornton,  to  make  all  sure,  plunged  the  knife  again 
into  his  body  :  the  blade  came  in  contact  with  a  bone,  and 
snapped  in  two :  so  great  was  the  violence  of  the  blow,  that, 
instead  of  remaining  in  the  flesh,  the  broken  piece  fell  upon  the 
ground  among  the  long  fern  and  grass. 

"  While  we  were  employed  in  searching  for  it,  Thornton,  whose 
ears  were  much  sharper  than  mine,  caught  the  sound  of  a  horse. 
*  Mount !  Mount ! '  he  cried,  '  and  let  us  be  off !  '  We  sprung 
upon  our  horses,  and  rode  away  as  fast  as  we  could.  I  vv^ished 
to  go  home,  as  it  was  so  near  at  hand ;  but  Thornton  insisted  on 
making  to  an  old  shed,  about  a  quater  of  a  mile  across  the  fields  : 
thither,  therefore,  we  went." 

"  Stop,"  said  I :  "what  did  Thornton  do  with  the  remaining 
part  of  the  case-knife  ?  Did  he  throw  it  away,  or  carry  it  with 
him  ? " 

"  He  took  it  with  him,"  answered  Dawson,  "  for  his  name  was 
engraved  on  a  silver  plate  on  the  handle  ;  and  he  was  therefore 
afraid  of  throwing  it  into  the  pond,  as  I  advised,  lest  at  any  time 
it  should  be  discovered.  Close  by  the  shed  there  is  a  plantation 
of  young  firs  of  some  extent :  Thornton  and  I  entered,  and  he 
dug  a  hole  with  the  broken  blade  of  the  knife,  and  buried  it, 
covering  up  the  hole  again  with  the  earth.' 

"  Describe  the  place,"  said  I.  Dawson  paused,  and  seemed 
to  recollect.  I  was  on  the  very  tenterhooks  of  suspense,  for  I 
saw  w^ith  one  glance  all  the  importance  of  his  reply. 

After  some  moments,  he  shook  his  head  :  "  I  cantwt  describe 
the  place,"  said  he,  "  for  the  wood  is  so  thick  ;  yet  I  know  the 
exact  spot  so  well,  that,  were  I  in  any  part  of  the  plantation,  I 
could  point  it  out  immediately." 

I  told  him  to  pause  again,  and  recollect  himself;  and  at  all 
events,  to  try  to  indicate  the  place.  However,  his  account  was 
so  confused'  and  perplexed,  ihat  I  was  forced  to  give  up  the 
point  in  despair,  and  he  continued. 

"  After  we  had  done  this,  Thornton  told  me  to  hold  the  horses, 
and  said  he  would  go  alone,  to  spy  whether  we  might  return  ; 
accordingly  he  did  so,  and  brought  back  word,  in  about  half  an 
hour,  that  he  had  crept  cautiously  along  till  in  sight  of  the  place, 
and  then,  throwing  himself  down  on  his  face  by  the  ridge  of  a 
bank,  had  observed  a  man  (who  he  was  sure  was  the  person 


384  PELHAM;  OR, 

with  a  cloak  we  had  passed,  and  who,  he  said,  was  Sir  Reginald 
Glanville)  mount  his  horse  on  the  very  spot  of  the  murder,  and 
ride  off,  while  another  person  (Mr.  Pelham)  appeared,  and 
also  discovered  the  fatal  place. 

"  '  There  is  no  doubt  now,'  said  he,  '  that  we  shall  have  the 
hue-and-cry  upon  us.  However,  if  you  are  staunch  and  stout- 
hearted, no  possible  danger  can  come  to  us ;  for  you  may  leave 
me  alone  to  throw  the  whole  guilt  upon  Sir  Reginald  Glanville.' 

"  We  then  mounted,  and  rode  home.  We  stole  up  stairs  by 
the  back  way.  Thornton's  linen  and  hands  were  stained  with 
blood.  The  former  he  took  off,  locked  up  carefully,  and  burnt 
the  first  opportunity :  the  latter  he  washed  ;  and  that  the  water 
might  not  lead  to  detection,  drank  it.  We  then  appeared  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred,  and  learnt  that  Mr.  Pelham  had  been  to 
the  house  ;  but  as,  very  fortunately,  our  out-buildings  had  been 
lately  robbed  by  some  idle  people,  my  wife  and  servants  had 
refused  to  admit  him.  I  was  thrown  into  great  agitation,  and 
was  extremely  frightened.  However,  as  Mr.  Pelham  had  left  a 
message  that  we  were  to  go  to  the  pond,  Thornton  insisted  upon 
our  repairing  there  to  avoid  suspicion." 

Dawson  then  proceeded  to  say  that,  on  their  return,  as  he 
was  still  exceedingly  nervous,  Thornton  insisted  on  his  going  to 
bed.  When  our  party  from  Lord  Chester's  came  to  the  house, 
Thornton  went  into  Dawson's  room,  and  made  him  swallow  a 
large  tumbler  of  brandy ;  *  this  intoxicated  him  so  as  to  make 
him  less  sensible  to  his  dangerous  situation.  Afterwards,  when 
the  picture  was  found,  which  circumstance  Thornton  communi- 
cated to  him,  along  with  that  of  the  threatening  letter  sent  by 
Glanville  to  the  deceased,  which  was  discovered  in  Tyrrell's 
pocket-book,  Dawson  recovered  courage,  and  justice  being  en- 
tirely thrown  on  a  wrong  scent,  he  managed  to  pass  his  examin- 
ation without  suspicion.  He  then  went  to  town  with  Thornton, 
and  constantly  attended  "  the  club  "  to  which  Jonson  had  before 
introduced  him  ;  at  first,  among  his  new  comrades,  and  while 
the  novel  flush  of  the  money  he  had  so  fearfully  acquired  lasted, 
he  partially  succeeded  in  stifling  his  remorse.  But  the  success 
of  crime  is  too  contrary  to  nature  to  continue  long;  his  poor 
wife,  whom,  in  spite  of  her  extravagant  and  his  dissolute  habits, 
he  seemed  really  to  love,  fell  ill  and  died ;  on  her  death-bed  she 
revealed  the  suspicions  she  had  formed  of  his  crime,  and  said 
that  those  suspicions  had  preyed  upon  and  finally  destroyed  her 
health  :  this  awoke  him  from  the  guilty  torpor  of  his  conscience. 
His  share  of  the  money,  too,  the  greater  part  of  which  Thorn- 

*  A  common  practice  with  thieves  who  fear  the  weak  nerves  of  their  accomplices. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  3S5 

ton  had  bullied  out  of  him,  was  gone.  He  fell,  as  Jo'j  h^d  said, 
into  despondency  and  gloom,  and  often  spoke  to  Thornton  so 
forcibly  of  his  remorse,  and  so  earnestly  of  his  gnawing  and 
restless  desire  to  appease  his  mind  by  surrendering  himself  to 
justice,  that  the  fears  of  that  \allain  grew  at  length  so  thoroughly 
alarmed,  as  to  procure  his  removal  to  his  present  abode. 

It  was  here  that  his  real  punishment  commenced  :  closely 
confined  to  his  apartment,  at  the  remotest  corner  of  the  house, 
his  solitude  was  never  broken  but  by  the  short  and  hurried  visits 
of  his  female  gaoler,  and  (worse  even  than  loneliness)  the  occa^ 
sional  invasions  of  Thornton.  There  appeared  to  be  in  that 
abandoned  wretch,  what,  for  the  honor  of  human  nature,  is  but 
rarely  found,  viz.,  a  love  of  sin,  not  for  its  objects,  but  itself. 
With  a  malignity,  doubly  fiendish  from  its  inutility,  he  forbade 
Dawson  the  only  indulgence  he  craved — a  light  during  the  dark 
hours ;  and  not  only  insulted  him  for  his  cowardice,  but  even 
added  to  his  terrors  by  threats  of  effectually  silencing  them. 

These  fears  had  so  wildly  worked  upon  the  man's  mind,  that 
prison  itself  appeared  to  him  an  elysium  to  the  hell  he  endured  : 
and  when  his  confession  was  ended,  and  I  said,  "  If  you  can  be 
freed  from  this  place,  would  you  repeat  before  a  magistrate  all 
that  you  have  now  told  me  .-' "  he  started  up  in  delight  at  the 
very  thought.  In  truth,  besides  his  remorse,  and  that  inward 
and  impelling  voice  which,  in  all  the  annals  of  murder,  seems 
to  urge  the  criminal  onwards  to  the  last  expiation  of  his  guilt — 
besides  these,  there  mingled  in  his  mind  a  sentiment  of  bitter, 
yet  cowardly,  vengeance,  against  his  inhuman  accomplice  ;  and 
perhaps  he  found  consolation  for  his  own  fate,  in  the  hope  of 
wreaking  upon  Thornton's  head  somewhat  of  the  tortures  that 
ruffian  had  inliicted  upon  him. 

I  had  taken  down  in  my  book  the  heads  of  the  confession, 
and  I  now  hastened  to  Jonson,  who,  waiting  without  the  door, 
had  (as  I  had  anticipated)  heard  all. 

"  You  see,"  said  I,  "  that,  however  satisfactory  this  recital 
has  been,  it  contains  no  secondary  or  innate  proofs  to  confirm 
it ;  the  only  evidence  with  which  it  could  furnish  us,  v/ould  be 
the  remnant  of  the  broken  knife,  engraved  with  Thornton's 
name ;  but  you  have  heard  from  Dawson's  account,  how  impos- 
sible it  would  be  in  an  extensive  wood,  for  any  one  to  discover 
the  spot  but  himself.  You  will  agree  with  me,  therefore,  that 
we  must  not  leave  this  house  without  Dawson." 

Job  changed  color  slightly. 

"  I  see  as  clearly  as  you  do,"  said  he,  "  that  it  will  be  neces- 
sary for  my  annuity,   and  your  friend's  full  acquittal,  to  procure 


386  PELHAM;  OK, 

Dawson's  personal  evidence,  but  it  is  late  now ;  the  men  may 
be  still  drinking  below;  Bess  may  be  still  awake  and  stirring ; 
even  if  she  sleeps,  how  could  we  pass  her  room  without  disturb- 
ing her  ?  I  own  that  I  do  not  see  a  chance  of  effecting  his 
escape  to-night,  without  incurring  the  most  probable  peril  of 
having  our  throats  cut.  Leave  it,  therefore,  to  me  to  procure 
his  release  as  soon  as  possible — probably  to-morrow,  and  let  us 
now  quietly  retire,  content  with  what  we  have  yet  got." 

Hitherto  I  had  implicitly  obeyed  Job  :  it  was  now  my  turn  (o 
command.  "  Look  you,"  said  I,  calmly  but  sternly,  "  I  have 
come  into  this  house  under  your  guidance,  solely  to  procure  the 
evidence  of  that  man ;  the  evidence  he  has,  as  yet,  given,  may 
not  be  worth  a  straw ;  and,  since  I  have  ventured  among  the  knives 
of  your  associates,  it  shall  be  for  some  purpose.  I  tell  you 
fairly  that,  whether  you  befriend  or  betray  me,  I  will  either 
leave  these  walls  with  Dawson  or  remain  in  them  a  corpse." 

"You  are  a  bold  blade,  sir,"  said  Jonson,  who  seemed 
rather  to  respect  than  resent  the  determination  of  my  tone, 
"  and  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  ;  wait  here,  your  honor,  while 
I  go  down  to  see  if  the  boys  are  gone  to  bed,  and  the  coast  is 
clear." 

Job  descended,  and  I  re-entered  Dawson's  room.  When  1 
told  him  that  we  were  resolved,  if  possible,  to  effect  his  escape, 
nothing  could  exceed  his  transport  and  gratitude ;  this  was,  in- 
deed, expressed  in  so  mean  and  servile  a  mannner,  mixed  with 
so  many  petty  threats  of  vengeance  against  Thornton,  that  I 
could  scarcely  conceal  my  disgust. 

Jonson  returned,  and  beckoned  me  out  of  the  room. 

"  They  are  all  in  bed,  sir,"  said  he — "  Bess  as  well  as  the 
rest ;  indeed,  the  old  girl  has  lushed  so  well  at  the  bingo,  that 
she  sleeps  as  if  her  next  morrow  was  the  day  of  judgment.  I 
have,  also,  seen  that  the  street-door  is  still  unbarred,  so  that, 
upon  the  whole,  we  have,  perhaps,  as  good  a  chance  to-night  as 
we  may  ever  have  again.  Ail  my  fear  is  about  that  cowardly 
lubber.  I  have  left  both  Bess's  doors  wide  open,  so  we  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  creep  through ;  as  for  me,  I  am  an  old  file, 
and  could  steal  my  way  through  a  sick  man's  room,  like  a  sun- 
beam through  a  key-hole." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  in  the  same  strain,  "  I  am  no  elephant,  and 
my  dancing-master  used  to  tell  me  I  might  tread  on  a  butterfly's 
wing  without  brushing  off  a  tint :  (poor  Coulon  !  he  little  thought 
of  the  use  his  lessons  would  be  to  me  hereafter !) — so  let  us  be 
quick.  Master  Job." 

"  Stop,"  said  Jonson ;  "  I  have   yet  a  ceremony   to  perform 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  387 

with  our  caged  bird.  I  must  put  a  fresh  gag  on  his  mouth  ;  for 
though,  if  he  escapes,  I  must  leave  England,  perhaps  for  ever, 
for  fear  of  the  jolly  boys,  and,  therefore,  care  not  what  he  blabs 
about  me  ;  yet  there  are  a  few  fine  fellows  amongst  the  club, 
whom  I  would  not  have  hurt  for  the  Indies;  so  I  shall  make 
Master  Dawson  take  our  last  oath — the  Devil  himself  would  not 
break  that,  I  think  !  Your  honor  will  stay  outside  the  door,  for 
we  can  have  no  witness  while  it  is  administered." 

Job  then  entered  ;  I  stood  without ; — in  a  few  minutes  I 
heard  Dawson's  voice  in  the  accents  of  supplication.  Soon  af- 
ter Job  returned.  "  The  craven  dog  won't  take  the  oath,"  said 
he,  "  and  may  my  right  hand  rot  above  ground  before  it  shall 
turn  key  for  him  unless  he  does."  But  when  Da\vson  saw  that 
Job  had  left  the  room  and  withdrawn  the  light,  the  conscience- 
stricken  coward  came  to  the  door,  and  implored  Job  to  return. 
"  Will  you  swear,  then  ? "  said  Jonson ;  "  I  will,  I  will,"  was 
the  answer. 

Job  then  re-entered — minutes  passed  away — Job  re-appeared, 
and  Dawson  was  dressed,  and  clinging  hold  of  him — "All's 
right !  "  said  he  to  me,  with  a  satisfied  air. 

The  oath  had  been  taken — what  it  was  I  know  not — hut  it 
was  never  broken* 

Dawson  and  Job  went  first — I  followed — we  passed  the  pas- 
sage, and  came  to  the  chamber  of  the  sleeping  Mrs.  Brimstone. 
Job  bent  eagerly  forward  to  listen,  before  he  entered :  he  took 
hold  of  Dawson's  arm,  and  beckoning  to  me  to  follow,  stole, 
with  a  step  that  the  blind  mole  would  not  have  heard,  across  the 
room.  Carefully  did  the  practised  thief  veil  the  candle  he  car- 
ried with  his  hand,  as  he  now  began  to  pass  by  the  bed.  I  saw 
that  Dawson  trembled  like  a  leaf,  and  the  palpitation  of  his 
limbs  made  his  step  audible  and  heavy.  Just  as  they  had  half- 
way passed  the  bed,  I  turned  my  look  ort  Brimstone  Bess,  and 
observed,  with  a  shuddering  thrill,  her  eyes  slowly  open,  and  fix 
upon  the  forms  of  my  companions.  Dawson's  gaze  had  been 
bent  in  the  same  direction,  and  when  he  met  the  full,  glassy 
stare  of  the  beldame's  eyes,  he  uttered  a  faint  scream.  This 
completed  our  danger :  had  it  not  been  for  that  exclamation, 
Bess  might,  in  the  uncertain  vision  of  drowsiness,  have  passed 
over  the  third  person,  and  fancied  it  was  only  myself  and  John- 
son, in  our  way  from  Dawson's  apartment ;  but  no  sooner  had 
her  ear  caught  the  sound,  then  she  started  up,  and  sat  erect  on 
her  bed,  gazing  at  us  in  mingled  wrath  and  astonishment. 

*  Those  conversant  with  the  annals  of  Newgate  well  know  how  religiously  the  oaths 
of  these  fearful  Freemasonrics  are  kept. 


3S8  PELHAM;  OR, 

That  was  a  fearful  moment — we  stood  riveted  to  the  spot! 
"Oh,  my  kiddies,"  cried  Bess,  at  last  finding  speech,  "you  are 
in  Queer-street,  I  trow  !  Plant  your  stumps,  Master  Guinea  Pig ; 
you  are  going  to  stall  off  the  Daw's  baby  in  prime  twig,  eh  ? 
But  Bess  stags  you,  my  cove  !     Bess  stags  you."* 

Jonson  looked  irresolute  for  one  instant,  but  the  next  he 
had  decided.  "  Run,  run,"  cried  he,  "  for  your  lives  ;  "  and  he 
and  Dawson  (to  whom  fear  did  indeed  lend  wings)  were  out  of 
the  room  in  an  instant.  I  lost  no  time  in  following  their  exam- 
ple;  but  the  vigilant  and  incensed  hag  was  too  quick  for  me ; 
she  pulled  violently  the  bell,  on  which  she  had  already  placed 
her  hand:  the  alarm  rang  like  an  echo  in  a  cavern-;  below — 
around — far — near — from  wall  to  wall — from  chamber  to  cham- 
ber, the  sound  seemed  multiplied  and  repeated  !  and  in  the 
same  breathing  point  of  time  she  sprang  from  her  bed  and 
seized  me,  just  as  I  had  reached  the  door. 

"  On,  on,  on,"  cried  Jonson's  voice  to  Dawson,  as  they  had 
already  gained  the  passage,  and  left  the  whole  room,  and  the 
staircase  beyond,  in  utter  darkness. 

With  a  firm,  muscular,  nervous  gripe,  which  almost  showed  a 
masculine  strength,  the  hag  clung  to  my  throat  and  breast ;  be- 
hind, among  some  of  the  numerous  rooms  in  the  passage  we 
had  left,  I  heard  sounds  which  told  too  plainly  how  rapidly  the 
alarm  had  spread.  A  door  opened — steps  approached — my  fate 
seemed  fixed  ;  but  despair  gave  me  energy  :  it  was  no  time  for 
the  ceremonials  due  to  the  beau  sexe.  I  dashed  Bess  to  the 
ground,  tore  myself  from  her  relaxing  grasp,  and  fled  down  the 
steps  with  all  the  precipitation  the  darkness  would  allow.  I 
gained  the  passage,  at  the  far  end  of  which  hung  the  lamp,  now 
weak  and  waning  in  its  socket,  which,  it  will  be  remembered, 
burnt  close  by  the  sick  man's  chamber  that  I  had  so  unintention- 
ally entered.  A  thought  flashed  upon  my  mind,  and  lent  me 
new  nerves  and  fresh  speed  ;  I  flew  along  the  passage,  guided 
by  the  dying  light.  The  staircase  I  had  left  shook  with  the 
footsteps  of  my  pursuers.  I  was  at  the  door  of  the  sick  thief — 
I  burst  it  open — seized  the  sword  as  it  lay  within  reach  on  the 
chair,  where  Jonson  had  placed  it  and  feeling,  at  the  touch  of 
the  familiar  weapon,  as  if  the  might  of  ten  men  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  my  single  arm,  I  bounded  down  the  stairs  before  me — 
passed  the  door  at  the  bottom,  which  Dawson  had  fortunately 
left  open — flung  it  back  almost  upon  the  face  of  my  advancing 
enemies,  and  found  myself  in  the  long  passage  which  led  to  the 

*  "  Halt,— Master  Guinea  Pif,',  you  arc  going  to  steal  Dawson  away,  eh  ?  But  Bess 
sees  you,  my  man,  Bess  sees  you  !  " 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  389 

Street-door,  in  safety,  but  in  the  thickest  darkness.  A  light 
flashed  from  a  door  to  the  left ;  the  door  was  that  of  the 
"Common  room"  which  we  had  first  entered;  it  opened,  and 
Spider-shanks,  with  one  of  his  comrades,  looked  forth,  the 
former  holding  a  light.  I  darted  by  them,  and,  guided  by 
their  lamp  tied  along  the  passage,  and  reached  the  door.  Im- 
agine my  dismay — when,  either  through  accident,  or  by  the  de- 
sire of  my  fugitive  companions  to  impede  pursuit,  I  found  it 
unexpectedly  closed  ! 

The  two  villains  had  now  come  up  to  me ;  close  at  their 
heels  were  two  more,  probably  my  pursuers  from  the  upper  apart- 
ments. Providentially  the  passage  was,  (as  I  before  said)  extreme- 
ly narrow,  and  as  long  as  no  tire-arms  were  used,  nor  a  general 
rush  resorted  to,  I  had  little  doubt  of  being  able  to  keep  the 
ruffians  at  bay,  until  I  had  hit  upon  the  method  of  springing  the 
latch,  and  so  winning  my  escape  from  the  house. 

While  my  left  hand  was  employed  in  feeling  the  latch,  I  made 
such  good  use  of  my  right,  as  to  keep  my  antagonists  at  a  safe 
distance.  The  one  who  was  nearest  to  me  was  Fib  Fakescrew  ; 
he  was  armed  with  a  weapon  exactly  similar  to  my  own.  The 
whole  passage  rung  with  oaths  and  threats.  "  Crash  the  cull — 
down  with  him — down  with  him  before  he  dubs  the  jigger.  Tip 
him  the  degan.  Fib,  fake  him  through  and  through ;  if  he  pikes, 
we  shall  all  be  scragged."* 

Hitherto,  in  the  confusion,  I  had  not  been  able  to  recall  Job's 
instructions  in  opening  the  latch  ;  at  last  I  remembered,  and 
pressed  the  screw — the  latch  rose — I  opened  the  door,  but  not 
wide  enough  to  escape  through  the  aperture.     The  rufhans  saw 

my  escape  at  hand.     "  Rush  the  b cove  !  rush  him  !  "  cried 

the  loud  voice  of  one  behind  ;  and,  at  the  word.  Fib  was  thrown 
forwards  upon  the  extended  edge  of  my  blade  ;  scarcely  with  an 
effort  of  my  own  arm  the  sword  entered  his  bosom,  and  he  fell 
at  my  feet  bathed  in  blood  ;  the  motion  which  the  men  thought 
woulcl  prove  my  destruction,  became  my  salvation;  staggered 
by  the  fall  of  their  companion,  they  gave  way  :  I  seized  advan- 
tage of  the  momentary  confusion,  threw  open  the  door,  and, 
mindful  of  Job's  admo'nition,  turned  to  the  right,  and  fled  on- 
wards with  a  rapidity  which  baffled  and  mocked  pursuit. 

*  "  Kill  the  fellow,  down  with  him  before  he  opens  the  door.    Stab  him  through  and 
through  ;  if  he  gets  off  we  shall  all  be  hanged." 


390  PELHAM;  OR, 

CHAPTER  LXXXIV. 

Ille  viam  secat  ad  naves  sociosque  revisit. — Virgil. 

The  day  had  already  dawned,  but  all  was  still  and  silent ;  my 
footsteps  smote  the  solitary  pavement  with  a  strange  and  un- 
answered sound.  Nevertheless,  though  all  pursuit  had  long 
ceased,  I  still  continued  to  run  on  mechanically,  till,  faint  and 
breathless,  I  was  forced  to  pause.  I  looked  round,  but  could 
recognize  nothing  familiar  in  the  narrow  and  filthy  streets ; 
even  the  names  of  them  were  to  me  like  an  unknown  language, 
after  a  brief  rest  I  renewed  my  wanderings,  and  at  length  came 
to  an  alley  called  River  Lane  ;  the  name  did  not  deceive  me, 
but  brought  me,  after  a  short  walk,  to  the  Thames ;  there,  to  my 
inexpressible  joy,  I  discovered  a  solitary  boatman,  and  trans- 
ported myself  forthwith  to  the  Whitehall-stairs, 

Never,  I  ween,  did  gay  gallant,  in  the  decaying  part  of  the 
season,  arrive  at  those  stairs  for  the  sweet  purpose  of  accom- 
panying his  own  mistress,  or  another's  wife,  to  green  Richmond 
or  sunny  Hampton,  with  more  eager  and  animated  delight  than 
I  felt  when  rejecting  the  arm  of  the  rough  boatman,  and  leaping 
on  the  well-known  stones.  I  hastened  to  that  stand  of  "  jarvies  " 
which  has  often  been  the  hope  and  shelter  of  belated  member 
of  St.  Stephen's,  or  bewetted  fugitive  from  the  Opera — startled 
a  sleeping  coachman — flung  myself  into  his  vehicle, — and  de- 
scended at  Mivart's. 

The  drowsy  porter  surveyed,  and  told  me  to  be  gone  ;  I  had 
forgotten,  till  then,  my  strange  attire.  "  Pooh,  my  friend,"  said  I, 
"may  not  Mr.  Pelham  go  to  a  masquerade  as  well  as  his  bet- 
ters ?  "  My  voice  and  words  undeceived  my  Cerebus,  and  I 
was  admitted  ;  I  hastened  to  bed,  and  no  sooner  had  I  laid  my 
head  on  my  pillow,  than  I  fell  fast  asleep.  It  must  be  confessed, 
that  I  had  deserved  "  tired  Nature's  sweet  restorer." 

I  had  not  been  above  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  land  of  dreams, 
when  I  was  awakened  by  some  one  grasping  my  arm  :  the 
events  of  the  past  night  were  so  fresh  in  my  memory,  that  I 
sprung  up,  as  if  the  knife  was  at  my  throat — my  eyes  opened 
upon  the  peaceful  countenance  of  Mr.  Job  Jonson. 

"  Thank   Heaven,  sir,  you  are  safe  !  I  had  but  a  very  faint 
hope  of  finding  you  here  when  I  came." 

"Why,"  said  I,  rubbing  my  eyes,  "it  is  very  true  that  I  am 
safe,  honest  Job  :  but,  I  believe,  I  have  few  thanks  to  givejw^ 
for  a  circumstance  so  peculiarly  agreeable  to  myself.     It  would 


ADVENTURES  OF  A   GENTLEMAN.  391 

have  saved  me  much  trouble,  and  your  worthy  friend,  Mr.  Fib 
Fakescrew,  some  pain,  if  you  had  left  the  door  open — instead 
of  shutting  me  up  with  your  dub,  as  you  are  pleased  to  call 
it!" 

"Very  true,  sir,"  said  Job,  "and  I  am  extremely  sorry  at  the 
accident ;  it  was  Dawson  who  shut  the  door,  through  utter  un- 
consciousness, though  I  told  him  especially  not  to  do  it — the 
poor  dog  did  not  know  whether  he  was  on  his  head  or  his 
heels." 

"  You  have  got  him  safe,"  said  I,  quickly. 

"  Ay,  trust  me  for  that,  your  honor.  I  have  locked  him  up  at 
home  while  I  came  here  to  look  for  you." 

"  We  will  lose  no  time  in  transferring  him  to  safer  custody," 
said  I,  leaping  out  of  bed  ;  "  but  be  off  to Street  directly." 

"  Slow  and  sure,  sir,"  answered  Jonson.  "  It  is  for  you  to  do 
whatever  you  please,  but  my  part  of  the  business  is  over.  I 
shall  sleep  at  Dover  to-night,  and  breakfast  at  Calais  to-morrow. 
Perhaps  it  will  not  be  very  inconvenient  to  your  honor  to  furnish 
me  with  my  first  quarter's  annuity  in  advance,  and  to  see  that 
the  rest  is  duly  paid  into  Lafitte's,  at  Paris,  for  the  use  of 
Captain  de  Courcy.  Where  I  shall  live  hereafter  is  at  present 
uncertain ;  but  I  dare  say  there  will  be  few  corners  except  old 
England  and  tieiv  England  in  which  I  shall  not  make  merry  on 
your  honor's  bounty." 

"  Pooh  !  my  good  fellow,"  rejoined  I,  "  never  desert  a  country 
to  which  your  talents  do  so  much  credit ;  stay  here,  and  reform 
on  your  annuity.  If  ever  I  can  accomplish  my  own  wishes,  I 
will  consult  yours  still  farther;  for  I  shall  always  think  of  your 
services  with  gratitude, — though  you  did  shut  the  door  in  my 
face." 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Job — "life  is  a  blessing  I  would  fain  enjoy 
a  few  years  longer ;  and,  at  present,  my  sojourn  in  England 
would  put  it  wofully  in  danger  of  '•dub  law.^  Besides,  I  begin 
to  think  that  a  good  character  is  a  very  agreeable  thing,  when 
not  too  troublesome :  and,  as  I  have  none  left  in  England,  I 
may  as  well  make  the  experiment  abroad.  If  your  honor  will 
call  at  the  magistrate's,  and  take  a  warrant  and  an  ofifxer,  for 
the  purpose  of  ridding  me  of  my  charge,  at  the  very  Instant  I 
see  my  responsibility  at  an  end,  I  will  have  the  honor  of  bid- 
ding you  adieu." 

"  \Vell,  as  you  please,"  said  I. — "  Curse  your  scoundrel's 
cosmetics  !  How  the  deuce  am  I  ever  to  regain  my  natural  com- 
plexion !  Look  ye,  sirrah  !  you  have  painted  me  with  a  long 
wrinkle  on  the  left  side  of  my  mouth,  big  enough  to  engulf  al/ 


392  PELHAM;  OK, 

the  beauty  I  ever  had.  Why,  water  seems  to  have  no  effect 
upon  it !  " 

"  To  be  sure  not,  sir,"  said  Job,  cahnly — "  I  should  be  but  a 
poor  dauber,  if  my  paints  washed  off  with  a  wet  sponge." 

"  Grant  me  patience  !  "  cried  I,  in  a  real  panic  :  "  how  in  the 
name  of  Heaven,  are  they  to  wash  off !  Am  I,  before  I  have 
reached  my  twenty-third  year,  to  look  like  a  methodist  parson 
on  the  wrong  side  of  forty,  you  rascal !  " 

"  The  latter  question,  your  honor  can  best  answer,"  returned 
Job.  "  With  regard  to  the  former,  I  have  an  unguent  here,  if 
yon  will  suffer  me  to  apply  it,  which  will  remove  all  other  colors 
than  those  which  nature  has  bestowed  upon  you." 

W^ith  that.  Job  produced  a  small  box;  and,  after  a  brief 
submission  to  his  skill,  I  had  the  ineffable  joy  of  beholding  ray- 
-self  restored  to  my  original  state.  Nevertheless,  my  delight 
was  somewhat  checked  by  the  loss  of  my  curls ;  I  thanked 
Heaven,  however,  that  the  damage  had  been  sustained  after 
Ellen's  acceptation  of  my  addresses.  A  lover  confided  to  one, 
should  not  be  too  destructive,  for  fear  of  the  consequences  to  the 
remainder  of  the  female  world  : — compassion  is  ever  due  to  the 
fair  sex. 

My  toilet  being  concluded,  Jonson  and  I  repaired  to  the 
magistrate's.  He  waited  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  while  I 
entered  the  house — 

"  'Twere  vain  to  tell  what  shook  the  h6ly  Man, 
Who  looked,  not  lovingly,  at  that  divan." 

Having  summoned  to  my  aid  the  redoubted  Mr. of  mul- 
berry-cheeked recollection,  we  entered  a  hackney-coach,  and 
drove  to  Jonson's  lodgings.  Job  mounting  guard  on  the  box. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Mr. ,  looking  up  at  the  man  of  two 

virtues,  "  that  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that  gentleman 
before." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  I,  "  he  is  a  young  man  greatly  about 
town," 

When  we  had  safely  lodged  Dawson  (who  seemed  more  col- 
lected, and  even  courageous,  than  I  had  expected)  in  the  coach. 
Job  beckoned  me  into  a  little  parlor.  I  signed  him  a  draft  on 
my  bankers  for  one  hundred  pounds — though  at  that  time  it 
was  like  letting  the  last  drop  from  my  veins — and  faithfully 
promised,  should  Dawson's  evidence  procure  the  desired  end 
(of  which,  indeed,  there  was  now  no  doubt,)  that  the  annuity 
should  be  regularly  paid,  as  he  desired.  We  then  took  an  af- 
fectionate farewell  of  each  other. 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  393 

"  Adieu,  sir  !  "  said  Job,  "  I  depart  into  a  new  world — that  of 
honest  men  !  " 

"  If  so,"  said  I,  "  adieu  indeed  ! — for  on  this  earth  we  shall 
never  meet  again  !  " 

We  returned  to Street.     As  I  was  descending  from  the 

coach,  a  female,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  cloak,  came 
eagerly  up  to  me,  and  seized  me  by  the  arm.  "  For  God's  sake," 
said  she,  in  a  low,  hurried  voice,  "  come  aside,  and  speak  to  me 
for  a  single  moment."  Consigning  Dawson  to  the  sole  charge 
of  the  officer,  I  did  as  I  was  desired.  \\'hen  we  had  got  some 
paces  down  the  street,  the  female  stopped.  Though  she  held 
her  veil  closely  drawn  over  her  face,  her  voice  and  air  were  not 
to  be  mistaken  :  I  knew  at  once.  "Glanville,"  said  she,  with 
great  agitation,  "  Sir  Reginald  Glanville  ;  tell  me,  is  he  in  real 
danger  ?  "     She  stopped  short — she  could  say  no  more. 

"  I  trust  not !  "  said  I,  appearing  not  to  recognize  the  speaker. 

"  I  trust  not !  "  she  repeated  ;  "  is  that  all  >  "  And  then  the 
passionate  feelings  of  her  sex  overcoming  every  other  considera- 
tion, she  seized  me  by  the  hand,  and  said — "  Oh,  Mr.  Pelham, 
for  mercy's  sake,  tell  me,  is  he  in  the  power  of  that  villain 
Thornton?  You  need  disguise  nothing  from  me:  I  know  all 
the  fatal  history," 

"  Compose  yourself,  dear,  dear  Lady  Roseville,"  said  I, 
soothingly  ;  "  for  it  is  in  vain  any  longer  to  affect  not  to  know 
you.  Glanville  is  safe  ;  I  have  brought  with  me  a  witness  whose 
testimony  musf  release  him." 

"  God  bless  you,  God  bless  you  !  "  said  Lady  Roseville,  and 
she  burst  into  tears  ;  but  she  dried  them  directly,  and  recov- 
ering some  portion  of  that  dignity  which  never  long  forsakes 
a  woman  of  virtuous  and  educated  mind,  she  resumed,  proudly, 
yet  bitterl)' — "  It  is  no  ordinary  motive,  no  motive  which  you 
might  reasonably  impute  to  me,  that  has  brought  me  here.  Sir 
Reginald  Glanville  can  never  be  anything  more  to  me  than  a 
friend — but,  of  all  friends,  the  most  known  and  valued.  I 
learned  from  his  servant  of  his  disappearance  ;  and  my  acquaint- 
ance with  his  secret  history  enabled  me  to  account  for  it  in  the 
most  fearful  manner.  In  short,  I — I — but  explanations  are  idle 
now ;  you  will  never  say  that  you  have  seen  me  here,  Mr.  Pel- 
ham  :  you  will  endeavor  even  to  forget  it — farewell." 

Lady  Roseville,  then  drawing  her  cloak  closely  round  her, 
left  me  with  a  fleet  and  light  step,  and,  turning  the  corner  of 
the  street,  disappeared. 

I  returned  to  my  charge  :  I  demanded  an  immediate  inter- 
view with  the  magistrate.     "  I  have  come,"  said  I,  "  to  redeem 


394  PELHAM;  OR, 

my  pledge,  and  procure  the  acquittal  of  the  innocent."  I  then 
briefly  related  my  adventures,  only  concealing  (according  to  my 
promise)  all  description  of  my  helpmate.  Job  ;  and  prepared  the 
worthy  magistrate  for  the  confession  and  testimony  of  Dawson. 
That  unhappy  man  had  just  concluded  his  narration,  when  an 
officer  entered,  and  whispered  the  magistrate  that  Thornton  was 
in  waiting. 

"  Admit  him,"  said  Mr. ,  aloud.     Thornton  entered  with 

his  usual  easy  and  swaggering  air  of  effrontery  :  but  no  sooner 
did  he  set  his  eyes  upon  Dawson,  than  a  deadly  and  withering 
change  passed  over  his  countenance.  Dawson,  could  not  bridle 
thecowardly  petulance  of  his  spite,  "  They  know  all,  Thornton  !  " 
said  he,  with  a  look  of  triumph.  The  villain  turned  slowly  from 
him  to  us,  muttering  something  we  could  not  hear.  He  saw 
upon  my  face,  upon  the  magistrate's,  that  his  doom  was  sealed  : 
his  desperation  gave  him  presence  of  mind,  and  he  made  a 
sudden  rush  to  the  door ; — the  officers  in  waiting  seized  him. 
Why  should  I  detail  the  rest  of  the  scene  ?  He  was  that  day 
fully  committed  for  trial,  and  Sir  Reginald  Glanville  honorably 
released,  and  unhesitatingly  acquitted. 


CHAPTER  LXXXV. 

Uii  hymen  qu'on  souhaite 
Entre  les  gens  comme  nous  est  chose  bientot-faite, 
Je  te  veux ;  me  veux-tu  de  meme  ? — Moliere. 

So  may  he  rest,  his  faults  lie  gently  on  him. 

Shakspeare. 

The  main  interest  of  my  adventures — if,  indeed,  I  may  flatter 
myself  that  they  ever  contained  any — is  now  over  ;  the  mystery  is 
explained,  the  innocent  acquitted,  and  the  guilty  condemned. 
Moreover,  all  obstacles  between  the  marriage  of  the  unworthy 
hero  with  the  peerless  heroine  being  removed,  it  would  be  but 
an  idle  prolixity  to  linger  over  the  preliminary  details  of  an 
orthodox  and  customary  courtship.  Nor  is  it  for  me  to  dilate 
upon  the  exaggerated  expressions  of  gratitude,  in  which  the  affec- 
tionate heart" of  Glanville  found  vent  for  my  fortunate  exertions 
on  his  behalf.  He  was  not  willing  that  any  praise  to  which  I 
might  be  entitled  for  them,  should  be  lost.  He  narrated  to 
Lacly  Glanville  and  Ellen  my  adventures  with  the  comrades  of 
the  worthy  Job ;  from  the  lips  of  the  mother,  and  the  eyes  of 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  395 

the  dear  sister,  came  my  sweetest  addition  to  the  good  fortune 
which  had  made  me  the  instrument  of  Glanville's  safety  and 
acquittal.  I  was  not  condemned  to  a  long  protraction  of  that 
time,  which,  if  it  be  justly  termed  the  happiest  of  our  lives,  we, 
(viz.,  all  true  lovers,)  through  that  perversity  common  to  human 
nature,  most  ardently  wish  to  terminate. 

On  that  day  month  which  saw  Glanville's  release,  my  bridals 
were  appointed.  Reginald  was  even  more  eager  than  myself  in 
pressing  for  an  early  day ;  firmly  persuaded  that  his  end  was 
rapidly  approaching,  his  most  prevailing  desire  was  to  witness 
our  union.  This  wish,  and  the  interest  he  took  in  our  happiness, 
gave  him  an  energy  and  animation  which  impressed  us  with  the 
deepest  hopes  for  his  ultimate  recovery  ;  and  the  fatal  disease 
to  which  he  was  a  prey,  nursed  the  fondness  of  our  hearts  by 
the  bloom  of  cheek,  and  brightness  of  eye,  with  which  it  veiled 
its  desolating  and  gathering  progress. 

From  the  eventful  day  on  which  I  had  seen  Lady  Roseville, 

in Street,  we  had  not  met.   ■  She  had  shut  herself  up  in  her 

splendid  home,  and  the  newspapers  teemed  with  regret  at  the 
reported  illness  and  certain  seclusion  of  one  whose  fetes  and 
gayeties  had  furnished  them  with  their  brightest  pages.  The 
only  one  admitted  to  her  was  Ellen.  To  her,  she  had  for  some 
time  made  no  secret  of  her  attachment — and  from  her  the  daily 
news  of  Sir  Reginald's  health  was  ascertained.  Several  times, 
when  at  a  late  hour  I  left  Glanville's  apartments,  I  passed  the 
figure  of  a  woman,  closely  muffled,  and  apparently  watching  be- 
fore his  windows — which,  owing  to  the  advance  of  summer,  were 
never  closed — to  catch,  perhaps,  a  view  of  his  room,  or  a  pas- 
sing glimpse  of  his  emaciated  and  fading  figure.  If  that  sad  and 
lonely  vigil  was  kept  by  her  whom  I  suspected,  deep,  indeed, 
and  mighty  was  the  love,  which  could  so  humble  the  heart,  and 
possess  the  spirit,  of  the  haughty  and  high-born  Countess  of 
Roseville  ! 

I  turn  to  a  very  different  personage  in  this  ve'rifable  histoire. 
My  father  and  mother  were  absent  at  Lady  H.'s  when  my  mar- 
riage was  fixed  ;  to  both  of  them  I  wrote  for  their  approbation 
of  my  choice.  From  Lady  Frances  I  received  the  answer  which 
I  subjoin  : — 

"  Mv  Dearest  Son, 

"  Your  father  desires  me  to  add  his  congratulations  to  mine, 
upon  the  election  you  have  made.  I  shall  hasten  to  London,  to 
be  i^resent  at  the  ceremony.  Although  you  must  not  be  offend- 
ed with  me,  if  I  say,  that  with  your  person,  accomplishments, 


396  PELHAM;  OR, 

birth,  and  (above  all)  high  toji,  you  might  have  chosen  among  the 
loftiest  and  wealthiest  families  in  the  country;  yet  I  am  by  no 
means  displeased  or  disappointed  with  your  future  wife.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  antiquity  of  her  name  (the  Glanvilles  intermarried 
with  the  Pelhams,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IL),  it  is  a  great  step 
to  future  distinction  to  marry  a  beauty,  especially  one  so  cele- 
brated as  Miss  Glanville — perhaps  it  is  among  the  surest  ways 
to  the  cabinet.  The  forty  thousand  pounds  which  you  say  Miss 
Glanville  is  to  receive,  make,  to  be  sure,  but  a  slender  income ; 
though,  when  added  to  your  own  fortune,  that  sum  in  ready  money 
would  have  been  a  great  addition  to  the  Glenmorris  propert};. 
if  your  uncle — I  have  no  patience  with  him — had  not  married 
again. 

"  However,  you  will  lose  no  time  as  getting  into  the  House — 
at  all  events  the  capital  will  insure  your  return  for  a  borough, 
and  maintain  you  comfortably  till  you  are  in  the  administratidn ; 
when  of  course  it  matters  very  little  what  your  fortune  may  be 
— tradesmen  will  be  too  happy  to  have  your  name  in  their  books  ; 
be  sure,  therefore,  that  the  money  is  not  tied  up.  Miss  Glan- 
ville must  see  that  her  own  interest,  as  well  as  yours,  is  concerned  in 
your  having  the  unfettered  disposal  of  a  fortune  which,  if  restrict- 
ed, you  would  find  it  impossible  to  live  upon.  Pray,  how  is  Sir 
Reginald  Glanville  ?  Is  his  cough  as  bad  as  ever  ?  By  the  by, 
how  is  his  property  entailed  ? 

"  Will  you  order  Stonor  to  have  the  house  ready  for  us  on 
Friday,  when  I  shall  return  home  in  tmie  for  dinner  ?  Let  me 
again  congratulate  you,  most  sincerely,  on  your  choice.  I  alwavs 
thought  you  had  more  common  sense  as  well  as  genius,  than  any 
young  man  I  ever  knew  :  you  have  shown  it  in  this  important 
step.  Domestic  happiness,  my  dearest  Henry,  ought  to  be  pecu- 
Uarly  sought  for  by  every  Englishman,  however  elevated  his  sta- 
tion ;  and  when  I  reflect  upon  Miss  Glanville's  qualifications, 
and  her  celebrity  as  a  beauty,  I  have  no  doubt  of  your  possess- 
ing the  felicity  you  deserve.  But  be  sure  that  the  fortune  is  not 
settled  away  from  you  ;  poor  Sir  Reginald  is  not  (I  believe)  at  all 
covetous  or  worldly,  and  will  not,  therefore,  insist  upon  the 
point. 

"  God  bless  you,  and  grant  you  every  happiness. 
"  Ever,  my  dear  Henry, 

*'  Your  very  affectionate  Mother, 

"  F.  Pelham." 

"  P.S. — I  think  it  will  be  better  to  give  out  that  Miss  Glan- 
ville has  eighty  thousand  pounds.  Be  sure,  therefore,  that  yow 
do  not  contradict  me." 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  gentleman:  397 

The  days,  the  weeks  flew  away.  Ah,  happy  days  !  yet  I  do  not 
regret  while  I  recall  vou  !  He  that  loves  much  fears  even  in  his 
best-founded  hopes.  What  were  the  anxious  longings  for  a  trea- 
sure— in  my  view  only,  not  in  my  possession — to  the  deep  joy 
of  finding  it  forever  my  own. 

The  day  arrived — I  was  yet  at  my  toilet,  and  Bedos  in  the 
greatest  confusion  ; — (poor  fellow,  he  was  as  happy  as  myself  !) 
when  a  letter  was  brought  me,  stamped  with  the  foreign  post 
mark.  It  was  from  the  exemplary  Job  Jonson,  and  though  I 
did  not  even  open  it  on  that  day,  yet  it  shall  be  more  favored  by 
the  reader — viz,,  if  he  will  not  pass  over,  without  reading,  the 
following  effusion  : — 

"Rue  des  Moulins,  No.  — ,  Paris. 
"  Honored  Sir, 

"  I  arrived  in  Paris  safely,  and  reading  in  the  English  papers 
the  full  success  of  our  enterprise,  as  well  as  in  the  Morning  Post 
of  the  — ih,  your  approaching  marriage  with  Miss  Glanville,  I 
cannot  refain  from  the  liberty  of  congratulating  you  upon  both, 
as  well  as  of  reminding  you  of  the  exact  day  on  which  the  first 

quarter  of  my  annuity  will  be  due  : — it  is  the of ;  for  I 

presume  your  honor  kindly  made  me  a  present  of  the  draft  for 
one  hundred  pounds,  in  order  to  pay  my  travelling  expenses. 

"  I  find  that  the  boys  are  greatly  incensed  against  me  ;  but  as 
Dawson  was  too  much  bound  by  his  oath  to  betray  a  tittle  against 
them,  I  trust  I  shall  ultimately  pacify  the  club,  and  return  to 
England.  A  true  patriot,  sir,  never  loves  to  leave. his  native 
country.  Even  were  I  compelled  to  visit  Van  Diemen's  Land, 
the  ties  of  birth-place  would  be  so  strong  as  to  induce  me  to 
seize  the  first  opportunity  of  returning  !  lamnot,  your  honor,  very 
fond  of  the  French — they  are  an  idle,  frivolous,  penurious,  poor 
nation.  Only  think,  sir,  the  other  day  I  saw  a  gentleman  of  the 
most  noble  air  secrete  something  at  a  cafe,  which  I  could  not 
clearly  discern  :  as  he  wrapped  it  carefully  in  paper,  before  he 
placed  it  in  his  pocket,  I  judged  that  it  was  a  silver  cream-ewer 
at  least ;  accordingly,  I  followed  him  out,  and  from  pure  curios- 
ity— I  do  assure  your  honor,  it  was  from  no  other  motive— I 
transferred  this  purloined  treasure  to  my  own  pocket.  You  will  im- 
agine, sir,  the  interest  with  which  I  hastened  to  a  lonely  spot  in 
the  Tuileries,  and  carefully  taking  out  the  little  packet,  unfolded 
paper  by  paper,  till  I  came  to — yes,  sir,  till  I  c.ime  \o— five  In  nips 
of  sugar  !  (Jh,  the  French  are  a  mean  i;eople — a  very  mean  peo- 
ple— I  hope  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  return  to  England.  Mean- 
while, I  am  going  into  Holland,  to  see  how  those  rich  burghers 
spend  their  time  and  their  money.     I  suppose  poor  Dawson,  as 


39S  PELIIAM;  OR, 

well  as  the  rascal  Thornton,  will  be  hung  before  you  receive 
this — they  deserve  it  richly — it  is  such  fellows  who  disgrace  the 
profession.  He  is  but  a  very  poor  bungler  who  is  forced  to 
cut  throats  as  well  as  pockets.  And  now,  your  honor,  wishing 
you  all  happiness  with  your  lady, 
''  1  beg  to  remain, 

"  Your  very  obedient  humble  servant, 
'■^  "  Ferdinand  de  Courcy,  etc.,  etc." 

Struck  with  the  joyous  countenance  of  my  honest  valet,  as  I 
took  my  gloves  and  hat  from  his  hand,  I  could  not  help  wishing 
to  bestow  upon  him  a  blessing  similar  to  that  I  was  about  to 
possess.  "  Bedos,"  said  I,  "  Bedos,  my  good  fellow,  you  left 
your  wife  to  come  to  me  ;  you  shall  not  suffer  by  your  fidelity : 
send  for  her — we  will  find  room  for  her  in  our  future  establish- 
ment." 

The  smiling  face  of  the  Frenchman  underwent  a  rapid  change. 
'■'■Mafoi"  said  he,  in  his  own  tongue  ;  "  Monsieur  is  too  good. 
An  excess  of  happiness  hardens  the  heart ;  and  so,  for  fear  of 
forgetting  my  ingratitude  to  Providence,  I  will,  with  Monsieur's 
permission,  suffer  my  adored  wife  to  remain  where  she  is." 

After  so  pious  a  reply,  I  should  have  been  worse  than  wicked 
had  I  pressed  the  matter  any  farther. 

I  found  all  ready  at  Berkeley-square.  Lady  Glanville  is  one 
of  those  good  persons  who  think  a  marriage  out  of  church  is  no 
marriage  at  all ;  to  church,  therefore,  we  went.  Although  Regi- 
nald was  now  so  reduced  that  he  could  scarcely  supi^ort  the  least 
fatigue,  he  insisted  on  giving  Ellen  away.  He  was  that  morning, 
and  had  been  for  the  last  two  or  three  days,  considerably  better, 
and  our  happiness  seemed  to  grow  less  selfish  in  our  increasing 
hope  of  his  recovery. 

When  we  returned  from  church,  our  intention  was  to  set  off 
immediately  to Hall,  a  seat  which  I  had  hired  for  our  re- 
ception. On  re-entering  the  house,  Glanville  called  me  aside — 
I  followed  his  infirm  and  tremulous  steps  into  a  private  apart- 
ment. 

"  Pelham,"  said  he,  "  we  shall  never  meet  again  !  No  matter 
— you  are  now  happy,  and  I  shall  shortly  be  so.  But  there  is 
one  office  I  have  yet  to  request  from  your  friendship  ;  when  I 
am  dead,  let  me  be  buried  by  her  side,  and  let  one  tombstone 
cover  both." 

I  pressed  his  hand,  and,  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  made  him  the 
promise  he  required. 

"  It  is  enough,"  said  he  ;  "I  have  no  further  business  with 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  399 

life.  God  bless  you,  my  friend,  my  brother ;  do  not  let  a 
thought  of  me  cloud  your  happiness." 

He  rose,  and  we  turned  to  quit  the  room  ;  Glanville  was  lean- 
ing on  my  arm  ;  when  he  had  moved  a  few  paces  towards  the 
door,  he  stopped  abruptly.  Imagining  that  the  pause  proceeded 
from  pain  or  debility,  I  turned  my  eyes  upon  his  countenance 
— a  fearful  and  convulsive  change  was  rapidly  passing  over  it — 
his  eyes  stared  wildly  upon  vacancy. 

"  Merciful  God — is  it — can  it  be  ? "  he  said,  in  a  low  inward 
tone. 

Before  I  could  speak,  I  felt  his  hand  relax  its  grasp  upon  my 
arm — he  fell  upon  the  floor — I  raised  him — a  smile  of  ineffable 
serenity  and  peace  was  upon  his  lips;  his  face  was  the  face  of 
an  angel,  but  the  spirit  had  passed  away  ! 


CHAPTER  LXXXVI. 

Now  haveth  good  day,  good  men  all, 

Haveth  good  day,  young  and  old  ; 

Haveth  good  day,  both  great  and  small, 

And  graunt  merci  a  thousand  fold  ! 

Gif  ever  I  might  full  fain  I  wold, 

Don  ought  that  were  unto  your  leve, 

Christ  keep  you  out  of  cares  cold, 

For  now  'tis  time  to  take  my  leave. — Old  Song. 

Several  months  have  now  elapsed  since  my  marriage.  I  am 
living  quietly  in  the  country,  among  my  books,  and  looking  for- 
ward with  calmness,  rather  than  impatience,  to  the  time  which 
shall  again  bring  me  before  the  world.  Marriage  with  me  is  not 
that  sepulchre  of  all  human  hope  and  energy  which  it  often  is 
with  others.  I  am  not  more  partial  to  my  arm  chair,  nor  more 
averse  to  shaving,  than  of  yore.  I  do  not  bound  my  prospects  to 
the  dinner  hour,  nor  my  projects  to  "migrations  from  the  blue 
bed  to  the  brown."  Matrimony  found  me  ambitious  :  it  has  not 
cured  me  of  the  passion  :  but  it  has  concentrated  what  was 
scattered,  and  determined  what  was  vague.  If  I  am  less  anxious 
than  formerly  for  the  reputation  to  be  acquired  in  society,  I  am 
more  eager  for  honor  in  the  world  ;  and  instead  of  amusing  my 
enemies  and  the  saloon,  I  trust  yet  to  be  useful  to  my  friends 
and  mankind. 

Whether  this  is  a  hope  altogether  vain  and  idle  ;  whether  I 
have,  in  the   self-conceit    common  to  all  men,  (thou  will    per* 


400  PELHAM;  OR, 

chance  add,  peculiarly  prominent  in  myself !)  overrated  both  the 
power  and  the  integrity  of  my  mind  (for  the  one  is  bootless 
without  the  other,)  neither  I  nor  the  world  can  yet  tell.  "  Time," 
says  one  of  the  fathers,  "  is  the  only  touchstone  which  distin- 
guishes the  prophet  from  the  boaster." 

Meanwhile,  gentle  reader,  during  the  two  years  which  I  pur- 
pose devoting  to  solitude  and  study,  I  shall  not  be  so  occupied 
with  my  fields  and  folios,  as  to  become  uncourteous  to  thee.  If 
ever  thou  hast  known  me  in  the  city,  I  give  thee  a  hearty  invita- 
tion to  come  and  visit  me  in  the  country.  I  promise  thee  that 
my  wines  and  viands  shall  not  disgrace  the  companion  of 
Guloseton  ;  nor  my  conversation  be  much  duller  than  my  book. 
I  will  compliment  thee  on  thy  horses, — thou  shalt  congratulate 
me  upon  my  wife.  Over  old  wine  we  will  talk  over  new  events ; 
and,  if  we  flag  at  the  latter,  why,  we  will  make  ourselves  amends 
with  the  former.  In  short,  if  thou  art  neither  very  silly  npr  very 
wise,  it  shall  be  thine  own  fault  if  we  are  not  excellent  friends. 

I  feel  that  it  would  be  but  poor  courtesy  in  me,  after  having 
kept  company  with  Lord  Vincent  through  the  tedious  journey  of 
these  pages,  to  dismiss  him  now  without  one  word  of  valedic- 
tion. May  he,  in  the  political  course  he  has  adopted,  find  all 
the  admiration  which  his  talents  deserve  ;  and  if  we  ever  meet 
as  foes,  let  our  heaviest  weapon  be  a  quotation,  and  our  bitter- 
est vengeance  a  jest. 

Lord  Guloseton  regularly  corresponds  with  me,  and  his  last 
letter  contained  a  promise  to  visit  me  in  the  course  of  the 
month,  in  order  to  regain  his  appetite  (which  has  been  much 
relaxed  of  late)  by  the  country  air. 

My  uncle  wrote  to  me,  three  weeks  since,  announcing  the 
death  of  the  infant  Lady  Glenmorris  bad  brought  him.  Sincerely 
do  I  wish  that  his  loss  may  be  supplied.  I  have  already  suffi- 
cient fortune  for  my  wants,  and  sufficient  hope  for  my  desires. 

Thornton  died  as  he  had  lived — the  reprobate  and  the  ruffian. 
"  Pooh,"  said  he,  in  his  quaint  brutality,  to  the  worthy  clergy- 
man who  attended  his  last  moments  with  more  zeal  than  suc- 
cess ;  "  Pooh,  what's  the  difference  between  gospel  and  go — 
spell  ?  we  agree   like  a  bell   and   its   clapper — you're   prating 


while  I'm  hanging.^ 


Dawson  died  in  prison,  penitent  and  at  peace.  Cowardice, 
which  spoils  the  honest  man,  often  redeems  the  knave. 

From  Lord  Dawton  I  have  received  a  letter,  requesting  me  to 
accept  a  borough  (in  his  gift),  just  vacated.  It  is  a_  pity  that 
generosity — such  a  prodigal  to  those  who  do  not  want  it — should 
often  be  such  a  niggard  to  those  who  do.     I  need  not  specifv 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN.  401 

my  answer.  I  hope  yet  to  teach  Lord  Dawton,  that  to  forgive 
the  minister  is  not  to  forget  the  affront.  Meanwhile,  I  am  con- 
tent to  bury  myself  in  my  retreat,  with  my  mute  teachers  of 
logic  and  legislature,  in  order,  hereafter,  to  justify  his  lordship's 
good  opinion  of  my  abilities.  Farewell,  Brutus,  we  shall  meet 
at  Philippi  ! 

It  is  some  months  since  Lady  Roseville  left  England  :  the 
last  news  we  received  of  her,  mformed  us  that  she  was  livinir  at 
Sienna,  in  utter  seclusion,  and  very  infirm  health. 

"  The  day  drags  thro',  though  storms  keep  out  the  sun, 
And  thus  the  heart  will  break,  yet  brokenly  live  on." 

Poor  Lady  Glanville  !  the  mother  of  one  so  beautiful,  so 
gifted,   and  so  lost.     What  can  I  say  of  her  which  "you,  and 

you,  and  you "  all  who  are  parents,  cannot  feel,  a  thousand 

times  more  acutely,  in  those  recesses  of  the  heart  too  deep  for 
words  or  tears.  There  are  yet  many  hours  in  which  I  find  the 
sister  of  the  departed  in  grief  that  even  her  husband  cannot 
console  :  and  I / my  friend,  my  brother,  have  I  forgot- 
ten thee  in  death  }  I  lay  down  the  pen,  I  turn  from  my  em- 
ployment— thy  dog  is  at  my  feet,  and  looking  at  me,  as  if  con- 
scious of  my  thoughts,  with  an  eye  almost  as  tearful  as  my  own. 

But  it  is  not  thus  that  I  will  part  from  my  Reader ;  our  greet 
ing  was  not  in  sorrow,  neither  shall  be  our  adieus.  For  thee, 
who  hast  gone  with  me  through  the  motley  course  of  my  con- 
fessions, I  would  fain  trust  that  I  have  sometimes  hinted  at  thy 
instruction,  when  only  appearing  to  strive  for  thy  amusement. 
But  on  this  I  will  not  dwell  ;  for  the  moral  insisted  upon  often 
loses  its  effect ;  and  all  that  I  will  venture  to  hope  is,  that 
I  have  opened  to  thee  one  true,  and  not  utterly  hackneyed,  page 
in  the  various  and  mighty  volume  of  mankind.  In  this  busy 
and  restless  world  I  have  not  been  a  vague  speculator,  nor  an 
idle  actor.  While  all  around  me  were  vigilant,  I  have  not  laid  me 
down  to  sleep — even  for  the  luxury  of  a  poet's  dream.  Like  the 
school-boy,  I  have  considered  study  rt-x  study,  but  action  as  delight. 

Nevertheless,  whatever  I  have  seen,  or  heard,  or  felt,  has  been 
treasured  in  my  memory,  and  brooded  over  by  my  thoughts. 
I  now  place  the  result  before  you — 

"  Sicut  incus  est  mos, 

Nescio  quid  mcditans  nugarum  ; 

but  not  perhaps, 

"totus  in  illis."* 

*  "  Accordintj  to  my  custom,  meditating,  I  scarcely  know  what  of  trifles;  but  not, 
perhaps,  wholly  wrapt  in  them." 


402  PELHAM ;  OR,  ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN. 

Whatever  society — whether  in  a  higher  or  lower  grade — • 
I  have  portrayed,  my  sketches  have  been  taken  rather  as  a 
witness  than  a  copyist ;  for  I  have  never  shunned  that  circle, 
nor  that  individual,  which  presented  life  in  a  fresh  view,  or  man 
in  a  new  relation.  It  is  right,  however,  that  I  should  add,  that 
as  I  have  not  wished  to  be  an  individual  satirist,  rather  than  a 
general  observer,  I  have  occasionally,  in  the  subordinate  char- 
acters (such  as  Russelton  and  Gordon),  taken  only  the  outline 
from  truth,  and  filled  up  the  colors  at  my  leisure  and  will.* 

With  regard  to  myself  I  have  been  more  candid.  I  have  not 
only  shown — non  pared  nianu — my  faults,  but  (grant  this  is  a 
much  rarer  exposure)  my  foil)  ks ;  and,  in  my  anxiety  for  your 
entertainment,  I  have  not  grudged  you  the  pleasure  of  a  laugh 
— even  at  my  own  expense.  Forgive  me,  then,  if  I  am  not  a 
fashionable  hero — forgive  me  if  I  have  not  wept  over  a  "  blighted 
spirit,'"  nor  boasted  of  a  •'  British  heart ;  "  and  allow  that  a  man 
who,  in  these  days  of  alternate  Werters  and  Worthies,  is  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other,  is,  at  least,  a  novelty  in  print,  though,  I 
fear,  common  enough  in  life. 

And  now,  my  kind  reader,  having  remembered  the  proverb, 
and  in  saying  one  word  to  thee  having  said  two  for  myself,  I 
will  no  longer  detain  thee.  Whatever  thou  mayest  think  of  me 
and  my  thousand  faults,  both  as  an  author  and  a  man,  believe 
me  it  is  with  a  sincere  and  affectionate  wish  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  my  parting  words,  that  I  bid  theQ— farewell ! 

*  May  the  Author,  as  well  as  the  Hero,  be  permitted,  upon  this  point,  to  solicit  atten- 
tion and  belief.  In  all  the  lesser  characteis,  of  which  \.\it  /Irst  idea  was  taken  from 
life,  especially  those  referred  to  in  the  text,  he  has,  for  reasons  perhaps  obvious  enough 
without  the  tedium  of  recitaX^  purposely  introduced  sufficient  variation  and  addition 
to  remove,  in  his  own  opinion,  the  odium  either  of  a  copy  or  of  a  caricpture.  The 
Author  thinks  it  the  more  necessary  in  the  present  edition  to  insist  upon  til's,  with  all 
honest  and  sincere  earnestness,  because  in  the  first  it  was  too  much  iba  custom  of 
criticism  to  judge  of  his  sketches  from  a  resemblance  to  some  supposed  CiSginals,  and 
not  from  adherence  to  that  sole  source  of  all  legitimate  imitation — Nature  ; — Nature  as 
exhibited  in  the  general  mass,  not  in  the  isolated  instance.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  novel- 
ist rather  to  abstract  than  to  copy: — all  humors — all  individual  peculiarities  are  his 
appropriate  and  fair  materials:  not  so  are  the  hutnorist  and  the  individual !  Obser» 
vation  should  resemble  the  eastern  bird,  and,  while  it  nourishes  itself  upon  the  suction 
of  a  thousand  flowers  never  be  seen  to  settle  upon  one  I 


THE    END. 


i 


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